A Pretty Little Fool
by Moon Witch '96
Summary: AU. Her mother begged and prayed for a fool for a daughter, knowing the consequences of being anything but that. But its a pity that all the prayers and begging could lead to nothing. And everything. Please read and review.
1. Growing Up Buchanan

She had grown with a mother and father lost in the light of jewels and lust for people that weren't their own spouse. Her father, Tom, and her mother Daisy, with their elegance and light and false smiles made her grow in a world of secrets and into someone who was always watching for said secrets. Pamela Lily Buchanan had not grown up a beautiful fool as her mother had wished so badly, once upon a time. No, she was not a beautiful fool that her mother had wanted at all. It was funny, if she had known it, that she was much too like a cousin her mother was too ashamed to speak to. Though, unlike him she was a softer, quiet person that watched the falsehood and reluctance of her father's and mother's world with open eyes and disgust since the beginning. She did not partake in any sense, she could play a game that made her dance around the edges of the world they so love and clung to, but she never let them lead her around as Nick Carraway had so long ago.

Pamela Lily disliked her parents far more than she was comfortable with, as much as she loved them. Because she did love them, as hard it was to be around them. It had been with a reluctance that she had come home from school this summer. However, she had had no choice, two years spent away with excuses and hopes to graduate sooner had finally taken their toll on her parent's patience and lack of seeing her. So she had to either risk them penetrating her sanctuary or coming home. Add to the fact that they had sent a first class ticket with an actual letter...

Well, she chose option b and left England with a reluctance and longing to go back immediately.

When she had first proposed her college option in the first place, both her mother and father had objected to it, or at least shown great reluctance. But she had always been firm in her own way, and her parents did nothing if try to keep her happy. And out of the way. If anything, they had settled on the fact that she might grow out of 'that silly notion', or recall that 'Daddy had all the money she ever needed'. So she had been sent to England with tears and gruff goodbyes and a promise of sending her a million letters and good sized allowance every day. The latter had been sent without a problem. She had been lucky to get a letter every few months.

Looking at the towering doors of her childhood home, she had no idea what to think. It had been a long time since she had come, heck, when she had left, Germany had just been starting to prosper and flourish after the Great War. Now, last she heard it had invaded Poland and was well on its way to France. And she had been... Well, she had been constantly on her mother and father's heels, watching them take beautiful things and break them apart piece by piece.

She frowned, steeling herself and adjusting her skirt, and her hair trying not to fidget. When she had left, the last words her mother had said to her was to find herself a good man in Oxford. She shook her head slightly at the thought. England had done her good, she thought, watching with a slight smile as the doorman, Edward did a double take.

"Miss Lily?"he asked, his dark eyes growing wide.

She grinned, knowing that her red lips would surprise him, and wiggled her brows.

"Two years and you already forget me? Why Mr. Thomas, you wound me."

He looked her up and down, taking in her sleek skirt and neat blouse, her fashionable hat and well made face. She knew that years ago all she had worn was her father's old polo pants and her hair thrown back, no matter what he mother had pleaded. How things had changed.

"England has done you well Miss."he said, and he bowed his head, and she wondered at the sliver she saw lacing his tight curls, and the small creases she saw at the corner of his dark skin.

"It's been too long, Edward!"she said, and despite the frown and fury her father would have had, she reached over to embrace the man that had navigated her and given her sweets from the kitchen during the majority of her childhood.

He returned the embrace softly, and winking at her as he stepped back and opened the door. He grabbed two of her suitcases and whistled for Nicholas and Franklin, the other doormen to pick up the rest. She stepped into her old house, looking around to see if there were any changes. She found none, no matter how much she looked, wondering as her heels clicked softly on the tile. She walked to the parlor, where her mother spent the most of her time, and wondered if that had changed as the house hadn't.

Her mother wasn't a changeable person. There, sitting, pretending to read seated in her favorite window seat. It allowed her to stare at across the bay as she always did, as she was doing now, her mind a million miles away, a cigarette between her blood stained lips. She took her in, watching as she sighed and as she played with the pearl necklace around her long neck, and Pamela smiled.

"Is that book so boring or is that that old, ugly house across the bay is more interesting?"

Her mother started, whirling around with wide eyes. She beamed, her book falling to the cushions as she sprang up, arms extended.

"My light, my girl! You weren't due till Friday! Oh you naughty delight!"fawned her mother, and of course, her mother had that light to her, almost blinding in her happiness, as she rushed to embrace her. That light that surrounded and made you smile and eager to bask in it.

Lily, as she liked to call herself, had grown up with that light surrounding her, and her father had always said that she had soaked it up and made her it her own. Like a the moon taking the reflection off of the blinding sun. She never knew how that affected her, she had her mother's face and figure, but she was different... She had inherited her father's rich, chocolate locks, and had the piercing green eyes from her grandfather. She held herself without that wonderful, tempting and bewitching light of her mother, which seemed to be used to call everyone into her tangled, jeweled web. Her's was softer, a radiance that didn't call them with such a force and made them believe that their smiles and her's were shared and loved. No, it was just something in the way she walked, and the way she tilted her head that made people pause and take notice.

"Mom, it is Friday."she said plainly, and she hugged her mother carefully, as if she held to tightly she would break her.

Lily had no doubt it would. Daisy Fay Buchanan was a delicate, enthralling creature, with blue eyes wide as the sky it took its color from and a face aged softly. Hardly anyone could tell her true age of forty-one. But they hadn't grown up with the woman, seen how some of her soft blonde hair had slowly faded to sliver and white over the course of time. Or the way when she smiled that luminous smile of her's how her lips pulled at the slight lines around her mouth.

"My dear, my sweet how could you leave me?"she asked, and she frowned softly, her pale eyes distressed. She crushed the cigarette carefully and with a elegant movement of her hand.

"I believe something along the lines of becoming a writer and the need of a English degree."she mused, and her mother got this look in her eyes, a far away one that she sometimes got.

"I knew a writer. A cousin, Nick Caraway, oh what a darling."she murmured, in that way of her, as if anyone she had known, even a passing meeting was the light of her life.

Lily faintly had the image of a man with brown eyes and a strained smile with the name.

"How long has it been since Nick has come around?"asked her father in that booming voice of his, and he looked as if he had run all the way from his office, he beamed at her, and she smiled back.

Immediately, her mother stilled, and looked at her husband with unreadable eyes and a icy smile.

"Why, sixteen years. Hardly writes, I miss him so."

"Not as much as I missed my baby girl, come here sweet pea."

With a smile, Lily hugged her father. The scent of cigars, horses and his aftershave brought a sense of nostalgia to her and she wondered if it had really been two years since she had seen both of them. Carefully, she pulled back, and looked at them both as they stood next to each other, smiling at her. Her father placed a careful hand around the chair her mother had settled into, and her mother lounged, showing her long legs with a small stretch that brought the eye to her. They looked like an old painting, or at least they would, if it weren't for the strain in her mother's neck or the tight grip her father hand on the chair as he loomed over her.

"Terrible things going around, hear about the Jones boy died while he was studying in Poland? I'm glad you came home."said her father, clicking his tongue.

Her mother reached out and clasped her hands in a delicate grip.

"Oh, my Pamy look at you, all grown up."she enthused, ignoring her father's comment.

Lily wondered at the childhood nickname. She hated her first name, really, it was so... Terrible, it was why she went by her middle name, and she had been used hearing it the better part of two years away from her parents. The come back to her first name startled her as much as it annoyed her.

"You shouldn't have gone all the way to England, should have gone to Yale."he said with a scowl, touching her face with a fond smile.

"We must go shopping, dearest. You've learned to dress without me!"

"Maybe you should transfer Pamy, you shouldn't be so far away from home."

Lily blinked at the way her parents continued talking over each other. That hadn't changed either, she noticed with a frown. Her parents were all smiles, but it was stiff on their faces. They didn't listen to a word they said to each other, and they went on having a conversation with a person at the same time. It was still as overwhelming as before. But Lily _was_ different, she smiled at them, and yawned politely behind her hand. Her mother and father pounced:

"Oh, my little girl is so tired!" "Jet lag honey, bad way. Go on, your bedroom is in the same place."

Her mother jumped, and latched onto her arm as she guided her through the manor.

"That father of yours, no concern for you. Letting you leave at such a young age, not even seeing how tired you are!"she tasked, squeezing onto her arm.

"He cares in his own way Mother."she said softly, but she squeezed her mother's arm right back when she got a withered glance for her efforts.

She sighed, but paused at the ajar door at the end of the hallway that the bedrooms were in. Her mother stared at the door, eyes wide. She closed it, locking it with a key she took out of her breast pocket, painted mouth pursed.

"They always leave it unlocked."she snapped, turning away with a tut.

Memories of always looking at that door left Lily blinking.

"Isn't that you're old wardrobe room?"

Her mother looked at her, and smiled.

"Yes, my pet. My newer one is down the hall, added a room recently in fact. They just needed to dust all my old things."

"You're such a pack rat."she said simply, turning away towards her room with a smile.

Her mother's beautiful laughter, all bell and melody followed her as she walked after her, linking arms with her again.

"Oh darling, my sweet, you never know when things will be useful."she said simply.

Part of Lily laughed along with her mother, the other just rolled her eyes and let her kiss her cheek. She returned the gesture and went into her room. It hadn't changed since she was eighteen. It was large, as a rule Buchanans lived in large, spacious rooms. It also reflected the money that had belonged to the Buchanans since they had lived large in the colonies. Or something like that, she couldn't exactly remember her Father's constant rants about the trouble of old money versus new money.

It was a beautiful and expensive space, all white and soft. It was, in her opinion, the type of room her mother would have loved to have at her age. It was a room that was fit for a princess. In Lily's opinion, she was anything but a princess. At a young age all she had wanted to do were three things: read, ride her horse, and explore the vast expansion of East Egg, New York. All were activities that involved wild hair, stealing her father's old polo pants, a couple of books from the book shop she was not allowed to enter and not coming home for hours on end. None of it involved dancing ballet as her mother made her learn or the piano, none of it involved anything her Father wanted for his little princess.

And she had loved every minute she could be doing those three things. With a sigh, Lily let herself fall to the bed, and away from her memories. She wasn't quite tired enough to sleep, but the flight from here from London had been a long one. She felt the jet lag. It was late here, but morning in England. She felt almost ready to walk around, already use to late nights trying to finish a term paper or two. She wanted to get up, explore her childhood home. So, with as much grace as she could, she did, walked to the bathroom and rubbed away her make-up. Feeling nostalgic, she pushed away her hair into a pony tail and chucked off the skirt, her nice blouse and slipped on some pajamas pants and a frumpy shirt. She felt immensely more comfortable.

While she could dress herself nicely, Lily would always come back to this sort of clothes in the face of some strong emotional trail. It wasn't strange to see her looking like a near man during the finals, or just before a date. Seeing her parents again definitely fit into that definition, if not the hardest trail she had to face. She sighed, pushing a stray hair out of her face and slipping her shoes into her pockets.

She reluctantly dragged on her dressing gown just in case she ran into her mother, who tended to be a bit of insomniac herself, despite the stifling heat. She would wilt if she saw her dressed as she was. Either in anger or disappointment. Possibly both. Her mother wasn't stupid in any sense, but Lily saw that appearances were far higher above in her mind's eye than books, and that was why she had put in such an effort today. She sighed, peaked outside her windows, and walked out onto her balcony.

With a practice twist, she was on the ledge, inching around and climbing down the well worn groves she had made through years of coming down this way. Lily was glad she was okay with heights, even as a child. If she hadn't been she would have never been able to make the trek nearly every night from her room on the third floor. Her bare toes wiggled, finding every piece of loose brick that she had made over the course of a year with ease and a sense of nostalgia. She dropped to the ground a few feet off of it, and landed in a steady crouch.

She dusted herself off, put on her shoes and set to wander. It was like walking up from a dream; she felt a little surprised and disappointed, being back in New York. She had moved past all this such a long time ago. Carefully, Lily eventually found herself in her favorite spot as a child. She sat down, by the blinking green light and leaned against its post. Her feet dangled over the edge of the dock and she looked out into the sea.

"Always were a bit of a night owl. Ever since you were a little girl you've been scaling down that wall to move about."said a familiar voice.

Lily turned, and smiled at Edward. He stood easily in a crisp set of pajamas, same as her, robe on his shoulders, and a tray of lemonade and small sandwiches.

"You always seemed able to find me."she told him softly. The man smiled.

With a dexterity odd for someone his age, he sat next to her. A good feet or so away, and looked out into the sea as well, placing his tray in between them. He looked so old, she thought. He hadn't always been that way, and she wondered at the fact that he had changed in a place that was so bent on being the same. She drank some lemonade and ate delicately at the sandwiches, noting that even if her parents hadn't thought to feed her, Edward had. He always did.

"I never wanted to come back."she confessed, and the old man smiled.

"We never expected you to."he replied, just as honestly.

She laughed, and pushed back a stray strand of her long hair.

"I wanted to call for you. Pull some silly excuse of needing staff to help me. You and Catherine, Martha and Charlie and Rose. Then you and your family wouldn't have to work another day. You would have just lived in England in style."she said softly.

The old man looked at her with his wise, wise eyes and smiled again. It wasn't exactly happy, but wistful.

"As if you could live that way without gathering attention. We are what we are Miss Lily."

She stared at him, and lifted a hand. He mimicked her, and his large, dark hand made her's look so small by comparison. It was weathered, the hands of a working man. Very different from the hands of her father. She liked them more for it.

"I don't see a difference. You're family. You know me better than nearly anyone."she told him fiercely.

He chuckled.

"You don't. I don't. But the world sees a difference. And that's what matters."

"I love you like I should my father."she said, and she was repeating words she had said the night she left for England.

Just like then his eyes softened, and he smiled again, that smile that was familiar and warm and seemed to regard her just as he regarded his biological children.

"That's very kind of you, Miss Lily. I feel like you were my own daughter. But your not. No matter what we wish. And you're a Buchanan. You and me are more than different colors. Your as blue blooded as the come and you will always be that."he said sternly, wisely.

She sighed into the wind. She knew it was true. But she was so desperate to escape what her name meant and what was expected of her. She could escape it in England. But not here. Not in the place that tied her down so tightly by her name.

"I want to leave already. I want to escape and leave all this behind. Take you and your family with me."she said wistfully. But she wasn't a fool, nor was she unrealistic.

She knew her roll in life. No matter how hard she tried to escape it.

"It's late. I'm an old man and I need my sleep. And Cathy will have my neck if I leave you out here by your self."he said after a few minutes of silence, and she sighed, nodded at him and grabbed the tray herself.

They went in the back way, the way that her parents probably didn't know existed. Edward's family was in the kitchen waiting for them. Cathy looked as if she had hardly aged, tall, stern and with hardly a gray hair. Charlie towered over everyone, and she remembered a time when the young man had been shorter than her. He was grinning ear to ear, and he hugged her the second he could. His sisters, Rose and Martha were roughly the same height, taller than her and looking very beautiful after two years, having grown up just as she had. They embraced her as well, and their mother pursed her plump lips as she was presented to her.

"Two years and you hardly grow. All skin and bones."she muttered, touching her face softly with rough hands, tilting her chin to and fro.

Her gaze softened.

"It's good to see you Miss Lily."and she embraced her as well.

Lily smiled, the smell of cooking spices and Cathy so familiar and felt so much like home that she tried not to cry.

"I've missed you."she said to the group at large.

Rose grinned.

"Really? All those letters and you missed us? I think you're lying."she said smartly, winking at her.

Martha smiled softly in that quite way of her's, and Charlie wiggled his brows. Edward laughed, and Cathy tutted.

"As wonderful it is to see you, I have to yell at you, young lady! Gone two years and you still have that idiotic notion of -"

"Risking my neck to climb down from my window."she interrupted softly, batting her lashes.

The old cook huffed, narrowing her eyes and lifting her hand menacingly.

"Don't you think for a second that your too old not to smack girl."she said sharply, and Lily grinned.

"I don't think I'll ever be too old for that."

Cathy smiled at that, warm and soft on a face so usually so stern and stoic. She lovingly sent her to bed with a stern look, and she bid goodbye to her childhood playmates and the two adults that had been very much like a second, more loving set of parents. She sneaked into her bedroom like a thief, threw her dressing down away and laid down. It was close to dawn now, and Lily felt her eye lids flutter. She was so tired. Tired... She felt her bed dip. She blinked, suddenly awake, looking over to the depression in her bed.

Her mother was there, in nothing but a large, pink, silk shirt. It didn't belong to her father, because he would never dare wear that color. Lily didn't move. Her mother sighed slightly.

"You're so much like them."she said softly, voice so wistful.

Lily didn't respond. She didn't expect for her mother to demand one. She just sighed again, and she leaned over her face just as Lily shut her eyes. Her breath was cold, and it smelled like liquor. She kissed her forehead, even as she sobbed.

"Oh Pamy... Why did you come back? You were so happy in England. I saw it. I went to see you. I couldn't even talk to you. You better then this. Better than your name. Better than you're fucking father. Better than me."she whispered.

Lily still didn't move, only allowed her mother to sob into the early morning. The weight of her mother across her disappeared, and all she heard was a soft shuffling of her bare feet against the tile and the door closed with a small click. Lily rolled over. She stared at the canopy of her bed, the soft, sheer white curtains that fluttered in the breeze of the open balcony. She fell asleep with the sounds of her mother's sobs weighing heavily in her mind.


	2. The Man With The Desperate Eyes

Lily settled into a semblance of a routine at East Egg. She woke each morning, ate in the kitchen with the staff and then went to the library to pick out a book, or pick up one of her many novels in progress. She spent the majority of the day with Thomas family, either with Cathy in the kitchen, by the front doors with Edward, or with her childhood playmates. No one in the Thomas family could be called verbose, so for the most part, the first part of her days was spent in quiet comfort with the people that had practically raised her.

….

" _Miss Lily, get up and away from that book. Don't think I can't see that you've read that just last week! Help me cook this lobster. Do something useful."said Cathy sharply._

 _Lily did as she demanded, noticing with some embarrassment that she was stiff; her legs had fallen asleep without her notice, and she shook them to try and get some feeling. She smiled at went to work on the lobster with Cathy, they didn't really speak, other than for instructions and a 'Yes, Ma'am'._

 _But Lily found herself laughing, feeling more relaxed than she had when she had been reading the book. It was soothing to cook, and her legs felt better after being subjected to a little movement. After a hour or so, Cathy had shooed her away from the stove and back to her book, a small, tight lipped smile on the older woman's face, and a sparkle to her dark eyes._

 _Lily herself was beaming, the same sparkle to her own eyes._

… _._

At one point after lunch, someone else on the staff would find her and she would be whisked away to go shopping with her mother, or to visit someone that was _dying_ to see her again, that so missed her and needed to know of her.

That part of her day was long, exhausting, and for the most part filled with her mother's voice and brilliant smiles. She was subjected to long, arduous day trips to the various people of the neighborhood, and trying, and buying, more clothes that she could dare hope to bring back with her to England. Her mother didn't given an indication of what had happened in her bedroom on her first night back, and Lily wasn't about to mention it.

….

" _Oh, this would look divine on you, Pamey!"and her mother's face was luminous and beautiful as she showed her the dress._

… _._

" _Why yes, Diane, this is my Pamey, can you believe how much she's grown?"_

.…

Roughly around dinner, they would go back to her childhood home, her father waiting. Dinner was always the hardest part of her day: her parents would either talk over each other a mile a minute or the meal would be spent in complete silence, with the occasional ring of the telephone. Those were the worst days, her mother would talk louder, faster, and her father would adjust his tie and excuse himself. He wouldn't look at Lily for the rest of the night if there was a phone call for him, and when it was a call for her mother? Her father would snatch up his meal, along with her's, and they would eat the rest of the meal in his study. Afterwards, they talked, or really, her father talked and Lily hummed and nodded in the right places.

….

" _You should come home. What do you have to do in England?"he would say, shaking his head as he smoked a cigar._

….

" _Disgusting. The negro race. Gotta keep them down, honey."_

….

Lily would hardly ever answer when he said that, and only allowed him to rant for the rest of the night before she excused herself. She would go to bed, or wander around the estate at night, sneaking out her window for Edward, or sometimes Cathy, to find her. More often than not she could be found curled up on the dock, around the post with the blinking green light, writing. They would smile, maybe they had a snack or a had a particular topic they wanted to speak about, and then they would send her off to bed.

Then the cycle would start all again. It was unchangeable and constant. She was comfortable with some aspect of it, but uncomfortable at the fact that her parents seemed to take it as a sign of how easy it was for her to remain at home. Her father was already convinced she would stay and transfer, or stop with college all together. His motto, after all, seemed to remain on the fact that the Buchannons had enough money for her to live on. Not to mention the fact that she would marry someone just as rich, or 'respectable' and from an old family.

She sighed sharply, pushing away such thoughts and her book in the same movement. She couldn't focus. She felt restless. Trapped at the very thought that she would have to marry. She was twenty. Most of the girls she had been forced to play with at a young age were already married and were expecting their first child or raising it(or really giving them to their nannies). She was the odd one out in college and she felt the strain it put on her relationship with her parents because of it.

She knew that in her parents' circle they were whispering about how head strong she was, or that she was an old maid or something of that like. She leaned back, once again against that green light post at the end of the dock. She didn't know why she naturally came here nearly every night. Maybe it was because she could feel the breeze of the ocean and think with nothing but the sound of the waves in the distance. Maybe it was because she could think here, looking across the bay into nothing with darkness and be comforted by it.

"Lily?"and it was a soft voice. She blinked.

She turned, brows furrowed because no one called her Lily. Or at least, not here and not without at least a 'Miss' in front of it. It was a man. He was roughly her mother's age, handsome and tall, his hands inside his pockets, and his blonde hair was a mess, as if he had run his hand through it over and over. He was looking at her with such intensity that it surprised her, his clear, blue eyes shining with what looked like tears and a tremble to his mouth. She blinked again, clutching at the heavy journal she had in her hand as she stood up.

"Yes?"she asked, sharply, wary because it was the middle of the night, or very early morning and there was a strange man on her dock.

He smiled. It was small, controlled, but his lovely eyes were eager, and tears falling freely from his face.

"Lily. Oh, Lily. "his voices was still soft, but there was such an emotion to it that was strong and almost frightening coming from a stranger.

"What do you want?"she asked anxiously, eyes flickering around to see if she could run past her. Her best bet was jumping off the dock and into the ocean, because he was walking froward, arms wide as if to embrace her.

He blinked, as if he couldn't understand her reaction. He stopped, arms dropping. Suddenly he looked nervous.

"It's me, I know I've changed in all this time but... It _is_ me. J-"

"I- I apologize. I think you made a mistake. I don't know you."she interrupted, frowning at the man.

His eyes were wide and disbelieving.

"But you said- You said that you-"

Then he was quiet, eyes still wide and his mouth as well.

"You haven't gone yet. I'm too early."he said quietly, his brows scrunching together.

Then, he clutched at his chest, sucking in a big gasp. Lily stared in alarm as he fell to his knees. He moved his hand away, and all she saw was seeping blood gushing from his clean shirt. Lily screamed, dropping her journal as her hands fell to her mouth. The man lurched forward, his head falling forward and he reached for her, fingertips stained with his own blood. Lily made a whimper in the back of her throat, chest heaving.

He looked up, his eyes pleading and she didn't know what to do, but she rushed forward anyway, trying to think of anything to help the man. She dropped to her own knees, and tried to lift him up, but he was a stocky man, heavy for her. He looked up at her, tears still running down his face. Bloody fingertips came to her face, and his chest was heaving and he looked so scared. But his hand was gentle and caressed her face in a way that was so... So warm.

"Lily. Lily, I know you can stop this. Find me. I.. I love you."he said softly, and she knew he wasn't lying; his voice was too emotional, his eyes too honest, as he fell froward onto her.

And he was dead, she knew, because he didn't move again.

Lily screamed again.

….

"Miss. Lily?"

Lily lurched forward, chest heavy, eyes wide. Cathy stared down at her, frowning.

"You foolish girl, even if it summer you can't just fall asleep on the dock. You'll catch you're death."

Lily looked around wildly, searching for the injured man. No one was there, not even a stain of the blood that had been rushing out of his chest. Her journal was thrown about, and her heart was hammering as it had been just a minute ago as the man had been with her. She looked back to Cathy, mouth wide.

"A man- A man- He was hurt. On the dock he-"

Cathy sighed sharply, getting up, gingerly.

"Miss. Lily, you were dreaming. No one else is on the dock. You were tossin' and turnin' when I got to you. Serves you right for coming out here in the middle of the night."she said, but her eyes were soft and her hands were gentle when she helped her up.

Lily felt tears come into her eyes, and she rushed into the arms of a rather startled Cathy.

"It was horrible."she cried into her chest, sobbing.

The older woman relaxed after a second, and hugged her tightly. They didn't do that for too long; they weren't about embraces or or too much affection, a testament to the thin line that still separated them. Her name, always a factor. Always a burden in expressing herself to the people she loved. And Lily had long mastered the art of composing herself. One had to put on their best face on in the circles her parents ran in. She wiped her eyes, and in unspoken way, both she and Cathy headed back to the enormous house, side by side. They didn't say anything other than a soft good night.

The blue eyes of the man and his pleading expression followed Lily into her dreams. These were hazy, not as clear as the first. And somehow, Lily found that sadder and more alarming, with no idea how to feel about the entire thing. She only pushed the thoughts away, and tired to focus on the fact that she was almost home free, and if she played her cards right, she could leave East Egg and perhaps go on a relaxing holiday in France or something of the like. Maybe if she was somewhere else, she wouldn't dream of the man.

….

" _I never meant for any of this. I never wanted to meet you. You break everything. It was always Daisy. It had to be Daisy. I don't want this!"he raged, turning away from her to slam at the table._

 _She had never resented her mother more at that moment. Never thought she be so close to hating her. He wasn't looking at her. And she hated herself because she wanted him to look at her. At_ _ **her**_ _, not the resemblance she shared with her mother, not the differences that startled him and may upset him. Why couldn't he look at her?_

… _._

" _Don't leave me."_

" _I don't have a choice."and she whispered this because she could hardly bear to tell him that they were so far apart. Would he still want her?_

 _Or would he grow beyond her, move on to someone else to love? Part of her hoped so, because he was much more than a man that was suppose to wait. But most of her wanted him to find her again._

… _._

" _Where-Where- Mother! Mother!"_

 _She was twisting away from that horribly familiar man that looked so much like the man that had died in her arms, only somehow so much y-_

" _Calm down, Miss? Miss you have to remain calm, had a little bit of fright, it's perfectly normal after a tumble like that."he said quietly, patiently._

 _She was dripping wet and even in the stiffing summer heat she felt ice could because her mother was in the building with those horrific men and she-_

" _Miss, tell me your name, I can help you."_

 _She ignored him and tore off towards the enormous mansion, screaming at the top her lungs, trying to be heard over the pounding music, desperately looking for her mother._

… _._

 _"You can't even to begin to understand."_

" _Try me."he begged, gripping his hands in her's._

 _He was warm, so warm, and his hands were so large. Completely dwarfing he's and she never wanted him to let go. She looked him straight in his desperate blue ones. The way he was inching, closer and closer. She knew he was going to kiss her._

" _Find me."she whispered._

 _She let go of his hands._

" _Lily!"_

 _She stepped back._

" _Stay, please, don't-"_

" _Find me."she repeated._

 _His eyes were wide and he was reaching for her. Just like the first time she saw him. And he stepped forward mouth wide open and screaming her name-_

 _And then he was gone._


	3. A Daughter's Tumble & A Mother's Choice

" _I hate liars. So don't you dare-"he said, and she found herself laughing, freezing his no doubt important speech with her bitter mirth._

 _Because he was one of the biggest, yet most earnest liar she had ever met._

… _._

 _She felt as if she was dancing in thin air, but she wasn't, instead she was dancing with him. His arms were stronger than she would have thought, hidden beneath his suit, and he was warm. Not surprisingly, he was an expert in the waltz, and she wondered if there was something he hadn't forced himself to be perfect at. For the sake... Of Daisy._

" _You dance divinely."he said softly, and he twirled her away, before bringing her back closely to him._

" _My mother forced ballet on me as a child."she replied, heart a fast, unrelenting tempo in her chest._

… _._

" _I never did tell you my life story, did I?"he said, with the air of someone that was far too nervous to be about to tell the truth. Quick and fidgety, he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes._

 _She stared at him, and raised a brow. She didn't know why she was in the car with him, and she didn't know why she found herself suddenly irritated._

" _Why would I care to know?"she asked, and she was viciously content at his bewildered glance at her._

" _Pardon?"_

" _You present yourself as an enigma. The world seems to want to know who you are... But I already do."_

 _At this, he stopped the car, whirling into a small orchard and parking with the expertise of a professional racer. The workers, startled at the gleaming behemoth, yellow of all things, couldn't help but stare at them both. He turned to stare at her full on, ignoring the workers and sending them away in a dismissive flick of his fingers. His eyes were frightened, but at the same time, laughing at her. Because he was so sure of his control. He was so sure of his secrets._

" _I rather doubt that, Lilly. I am very careful in all my affairs, and am very private. No one save for Daisy knows me fully."_

 _She laughed at his serious expression-oh how earnest he was- at his faith in her mother. Because she though he was just a fool. A pretty little fool who had no idea who he loved._

" _You're a love sick fool that wants to fight for a married woman. And you're going to_ _ **loose**_ _."_

….

Lily was disturbed by her dreams more than she could say. They made no sense, and sent such an intense ache through her that she didn't know what to do with the emotions. It was as if she was two people, the version of her in the dream, because it was her in her dream, and the one who woke up in the morning. Because of it, she was sleeping less and less and it was driving her up the wall.

She was a night owl, true, but one could only stretch that so long and she was at the end of her rope. On average she was getting three hours a night- at worst she didn't sleep at best she got five hours. Most likely she would fall asleep out of her bed- on the dock or on the couch in the library. The fact that her stay at East Egg was coming to an end was a relief to her, and she was never happier to leave her childhood home, even more so than when she left for Oxford.

It was because she was so certain that it was the cause of her strange, nonsensical dreams. She reasoned, quite sensibly, that it was the stress of being there again, and once she left she would leave that and the dreams behind. And all of her thoughts of her first dream and watching that man die in her arms would be pushed behind her... If she could only get to the time were she could leave.

….

" _You have a lovely voice in your writing. Very fresh."he said, placing the book down._

 _Lily felt her heart pounding in her chest, nearly painfully, a deep, powerful beat. Her face was heated, and she was so embarrassed that she felt that she was ready to sock him straight in the jaw. That or flee to the hills. Perhaps both._

" _Why did you read that?"she asked, softly, taking the leather bound journal with trembling hands, and a forceful yank._

 _He smiled, and part of her was mollified when he had the decency to look half as embarrassed as she felt._

" _I was curious?"_

" _Curiosity killed the cat."she snapped, bringing the book close to his chest._

 _At that, he grinned, boyishly, it was odd in his usually debonair and smooth demeanor. And it was the most genuine face he had made since he had met her._

" _Ah, but my dear Lily, the satisfaction brought him_ _ **back**_ _."_

….

"Pamy, darling, won't you come do a small errand with me?"asked her mother.

Lily started out of her light doze, blinking wildly at her mother. For a moment, she couldn't understand where she was and what was happening. It wasn't until she sat up, and felt her leather journal fall forward from her lap that she understood that she had fallen asleep writing. She wasn't next to that man, and she wasn't in the middle of speaking about his rather rude seizure of her journal-

For a moment, all she could do was stare at her mother, blinking, confused. She was smiling, tightly, red mouth strained and thinner than ever, and her eyes- Well, her eyes were strained, red and swelled. It was as if she had been crying, or perhaps her mother had taken another dose of whiskey last night.

Lily, half awake and confused, nodded, and followed her mother when she gestured for her to follow her. She was rather surprised when she found herself in front of the door to her mother's old wardrobe room, and when she reached over to open the door. Somehow, the click of the lock made Lily jump, and she entered with chill settling over her.

The first thing she noticed was that the inside did not smell of old clothing: in fact the inside was swept, smelled fresh nearly sweet, and the wooden floorboards gleamed. Despite the fact that everything in the room was nearly two decades old, it was pressed and not a single mothball or spec of dust in sight. It wasn't even because of the servants that cleaned, because Lily was sure that they didn't spend more than an hour in here, perhaps once every two months. It was because her mother had personally taken care of every single article of clothing.

The second thing she noticed was that she felt a strong, hot stab of nostalgia, because this was the room she could remember spending the majority of her young life with her mother. It was a swirl of fabric and lipstick, sweet smells of perfume and brushing gleaming golden hair to perfection. It was her bell like laughter and watching her mother make herself even more beautiful. It was her as she watched from the side, her nanny's hand firmly on her shoulder, and felt awed at the gorgeous, golden woman in front of her. She gave her sticky, red kisses and stiff, quick hugs, sweets and a pat on the head as she went off to her jeweled world, away from Lily. Away from her husband, and into the pulsing music and gilded world of East Egg society.

"I was thinking pet, darling, of what I used to wear when I was your age, and I wondered if it would look divine on you... But of course, I knew it would."she said, and she went to sift through the dresses. She was smiling, but, it was tight and felt forced.

Lily, for the life of her, couldn't understand why the her mother was acting so... Strange. It was as if she was coming apart, even as she tried desperately to hold onto that perfectly sculpted facade of a lively, gorgeous woman that could bring sunshine in any place without a thought in her pretty head. But the woman looking through rack after rack wasn't that at all. She was stiff and she was near hysterical.

"Where... Where is it?... Where?"she muttered, disappearing into the back of the closet. Lily herself, somehow knowing that she needed to leave, inched toward the door.

When she turned the knob, it rattled. Locked. Part of her wondered why her mother had bothered to lock it other than to keep Lily in. It had been cleaned recently and no one ever tried to come in. She shivered, wondering if she should dare try to pick the lock, and stopped as she heard her mother's heals come closer and closer. She whirled around, and was stunned to see her mother looking grim, clutching a dress in her hands.

"I found it. The dress I had to see you in."she said, and she didn't sound excited, but rather resigned.

Reluctantly, and with a practice, Lily undressed herself in front of her expectant mother. Her mother tutted, and with expert hands removed her brazier. Granted, Lily, much like her mother, wasn't exactly well endowed, but still wore one because of course, it was proper. She shrieked and covered herself, and her mother tutted again.

"Really Lily, arms up. We don't have time for false modestly."snapped her mother, and she stepped up to push the dress over her head.

If she hadn't been too busy being embarrassed and trying to wrestle the dress over her head, Lily would have noticed that her mother had not called her Pamy, but by her preferred name.

"There, now take off those shoes. They do nothing for the dress."

She did with she was told, and slipped off her shoes, her mother taking her head band out with a scowl. With trembling hands, and a yank of her arm, Lily allowed her mother to take her to the vanity, sitting in the chair without even getting a glance of herself before her mother forced her chin up and began to apply the makeup that, like the clothing, despite being old, ready for use.

"Ah Mother, dinner will start soon-"she began tentatively, trying to fill the stiff, tense air with something.

Her mother stared at her, eyes grave and serious. Tears were in them, but she was smiling, pulling at the those lines around her delicately painted mouth.

"Don't worry about that. I'm making you perfect. Oh, and when you get wet, please pat at your face, don't wipe it."she said this softly, her voice bitter. But there was a acceptance in there too.

Lily couldn't find it in herself to speak after that, confused and heart thundering. She just let her mother handle her and paint her until she was satisfied. The woman that looked back from the mirror when her mother turned her around made Lily's heart nearly stop. She leaned forward, mindful of both her mother staring at her in the mirror and her own makeup as she reached to touch her face lightly.

She looked almost identical to any woman of the twenties, before the Depression, all thin and beautiful in a deep, deep green dress that hung loose on her body, her already slight curves lost even more to the nearly two decades old dress. Her eyes were smoky and her lips were a deep red, her long hair curled and artfully styled to seem shorter than it was, tucked and pinned with care.

"Perfect."her mother said, lifting a matching purse and handing it over to her daughter. Lily grabbed it with numb hands, automatically placing her journal in it, and staring after her mother as she disappeared to the back of the closet.

"Well, come along dear."she said, emerging with a coat and a pair of shoes.

She put them on, slipping into dainty little shoes and soft coat at her mother's impatient glare.

"Mother?"

"I just remembered I have an errand at looking at a property of mine, it will be quick dear, twenty minutes tops. Won't miss dinner."she said sweetly, steadily, her fists clenching slightly before she smiled at her.

And her mother's smile was all teeth and her eyes were steely as she reached over and grabbed her arm in a vice grip.

"And you look so wonderful sweetheart, it would be a shame if you took that off today."she said, and was that a lump she heard in her mother's throat?

She couldn't tell, and all she could see on her mother's face was a sudden, serene mask, perfect and gorgeous. She looked as she always did, no longer distressed. Either way, Lily was frog marched through the house, through to the garage and out the back door. Her mother stuffed her into a small, nondescript car and they took off into the night. Each second Lily was clutching her door handle, rattling slightly, but each time it came up locked. Her mother ignored her, fixing her makeup and adjusting her hair. She looked, for the life of her, as if she was marching into battle.

The car ride took three minutes; the roads were deserted, the lamps of the streets flickering on in the evening hours, her mother smiling, her knuckles shinning white against the strain of her hold on the steering wheel. The house in which they came up on was a grand, run down old thing, and right across the bay from the Buchanan ancestral home. Her mother opened the locks, slipping out of the car and gesturing for Lily to follow.

Lily paused, looking at the towering monster of a thing. It had once been beautiful, she could tell, with hints of care and paint, now peeling and gray off the walls. It had windows to spare, tall and designed to let the light in, sheer, hole ridden curtains. The glass was nearly all gone from most of the windows, and the brick of the stair leading to the door were warped, missing in places to form a rickety thing. The roof looked collapsed inward, the large, door, wooden(with hints of what was once pristine polish) and rotted, seeming foreboding like every horror novel and film she had seen.

"I'll stay by the car."she said hurriedly, shivering in the night air despite the heat, and her coat.

Her mother paused in her stride, finger nails tapping impatiently at the set of keys she held in her hand. She pursed her lips, blue eyes gleaming oddly in the gloom.

"Lily, won't you follow me, my light?"she said and it was sugary sweet.

Lily froze, registering that her mother had called her by her preferred name with a gaping mouth. With that reaction, her mother lurched forward, and with a grip surprisingly strong for a willowy woman of a good family and money, snatched her arm and frog-marched her once again, only this time to the looming old house in the dark. The inside wasn't much better than the outside, she found out much to her dismay, dust, cobwebs, and dirty sheets over collapsed furniture.

Her mother's hand slipped from her wrist, and instead went to her hand. Her hand was soft, but clammy, shaking slightly. She lead her through the house, up the rotting staircase and past room after room. They stopped in a enormous room- once a sun room, with a few of the windows still intact, looking over a huge empty basin that must have been a swimming pool. It, like the rest of the property hinted at beauty, with titles of obvious value, chipped and battered with time and grime. Lily in all of her life had never been in a more ugly, dirty place...

But it was haunting one, even sad, this house and all of the things within- the implication of lost beauty and dreams forgotten stark and evident in the large, once elegant room.

"Pamela Lillian Buchanan."her mother's voice was soft as she said her name, and it was with a tone that hinted at something strange and mysterious. It echoed in the large room- coming back to circle and settle around Lily's shoulder's.

"Mom?"she asked, feeling herself tremble.

"Take off your coat dear."

She did as she was told, scared and aware that something wasn't quite right. Her mother threw her expensive coat towards the floor, the mound of tweed hitting the dirty floor with a muffled thump, throwing up dust in a swirl in the dimming light of the setting sun. She was smiling, then, reluctant acceptance lighting her features.

"Lillian. Oh my sweet Lilly... I've been a miserable fool. I deserve nothing but that. I made my choice a long time ago. Keep that in mind. I made my choice. Twice in fact. And I choose your father. Gladly and knowing the misery that would come from that because I have never been brave enough, never had quite enough nerve to be happy."

"Mommy?"asked Lily, frightened. She had never seen her mother so serious, and the tears in her eyes frightened her more than she could say.

Slowly, she backed away from her mother, who was coming closer and closer. Her back hit the dirty and cracked window behind her, and she gasped. It was then that several things happened at once- men, large men carrying guns slammed through the closed doors. Lily screamed, and her mother laughed. Loud and fiercely, as she promptly shoved her daughter through the window of the third story as the thugs approached. That was the last Lily saw of her mother, her laughing tear stained face as she feel backwards to her death with the sound of tinkling, breaking glass.

Only that didn't come...

Instead, Lily hit water, painfully and in a way that knocked the breathe from her lungs. It was clear and cool, the water, and suddenly all Lily could hear was a thump, thump... It was like a heart beat... Desperately, choking, she kicked her way to the surface, her panic like a living being inside her telling her that her mother was about to be killed. She broke through with a gasp, a splutter, and then with an blood curdling scream. Her scream was lost to the wild, eager beat of the music in the air, but someone had heard her, and suddenly there was a splash next to her, and someone quite boldly grabbed her waist, ignored her failing, and dragged her to the edge of the suddenly filled pool.

 _Hadn't it been empty?!_

"I have you Miss, don't you worry, I have you!"said her rescuer. He easily lifted her out of the pool, before climbing out himself in a quick, easy move.

He looked up at her, a grin in place that faltered as he looked at her. His mouth fell open, and all Lily could do was gape back at him. Because she knew his face. He was the man from her dreams, or her later dreams, blond, handsome and well put together despite his dated suit and dripping frame. He was the younger version. Not the one to have died in her arms begging her to find him-

"Where-Where- Mother! Mother!"she screamed, getting up, shivering and desperate to one, find her mother, and two get the hell away from this man.

She was twisting away from that horribly familiar man that looked so much like the man that had died in her arms, only somehow so much younger, her heart in her throat and ignoring his trembling reaching hands. He placed one on her shoulder, making her flinch as he squeezed in a way meant to reassure, she was positive, but only made her skin crawl.

"Calm down, Miss? Miss you have to remain calm, had a little bit of fright, it's perfectly normal after a tumble like that."he said quietly, patiently. Urgently, he looked at her face, moving her to face him.

She was dripping wet and even in the stiffing summer heat she felt ice could because her mother was in the building with those horrific men and she- And why was he searching her face so _desperately_ -

"Miss, tell me your name, I can help you."he said softly, eyes burning and intense.

She ignored him and tore off towards the enormous mansion, screaming at the top her lungs, trying to be heard over the pounding music, desperately looking for her mother. She pushed past party goers- _where the hell had they come from_ \- and ran full tilt toward the house, looking up at the window that she had broken through and froze to see it intact. The whole house was, it was beautiful and where the hell was the broken, pitiful mansion that she had fallen out of?

" _What the hell is going on?!_!"she cried, voice hoarse and thick in fear.

A hand gripped her hand then, and she cried out, surprised and fearful as calm, but urgent brown eyes looked down at her.

"We have to run."said the man, urgently.

Suddenly, it as if she could breathe, the man giving her a sense of warmth and peace that made him feel as if he was safe. Never mind that he looked ruffled, as if he had run twenty miles, or that his suit looked second hand or that he looked half wild with his look of urgency.

"Miss!"cried the blond man over the music.

She looked over her shoulder to see him, just as she had, trying to push past the throng of party-goers. Fear pierced her cold and making her shiver. She looked at the brown eyed man, who looked urgent and wasn't dead or from her dreams...

"Come on, I know that The Fall is jarring, but we have to go before anyone looks at you too closely."he said sharply.

At this point, Lily didn't even care that he was speaking nonsense, she only nodded, and tore after him as he started to run.

"Miss!"

"Faster!" urged the man, and she did so with gusto, her wet heels smacking against the pavement, loud even over the pounding music to her ears.

They jumped and sprinted around party-goers with grace and eased, hand in hand. They made it to the front door, blond man still at their heels, they tore down the steps, taking three at a time in their haste-

"MISS WAIT!"

A black car swung carelessly between the blond man and Lily and her frantic rescuer in the drive-way. The passenger door opened.

"Nicky get in!"cried a breathless, eager voice.

The man, 'Nicky', pushed her in, lunged after her, and the driver swung the car around recklessly, nearly killing the blond man, and raced away from the lite up and beautiful house. Lily was breathing heavily, heart pounding against her rib cage painfully. From her run or from terror, she wasn't sure. She turned to the driver and Nicky, and found her mouth falling open. The driver, a young, beautiful woman of delicate features and blond hair turned to her as she parked on the side of the road. She was smiling, beautiful and in a way that made most want smile back, a light around her to suck in people like a sun with a heavy gravity.

Her mother, younger, looking roughly her age, was beaming at her.

"Well, aren't you gorgeous! I'm Daisy Fay, this is Nick Carraway, and judging from your face and the fact that you Fell, you must be a Fay as well-"

"Mommy?"she whispered, interrupting.

The silence her question caused settled around them as both Nick Carraway and her mother started at her in pure surprise.

….

"Boys, calm down, no danger here."said a calm, familiar voice.

It sent an ache through Daisy, listening to him. The goons with the guns eased up, and Daisy breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped into the door way, a smile on his face and a crisp, neat suit. He was so handsome that it took a bit of her heart not to run into his arms. Arms that once would have welcomed that. She frowned, picking up her daughter's coat, and folding it neatly over her arm.

"Did you have to push her out the window?"he asked, frowning.

She smiled back, flirtatious nature of her's rearing its ugly head without her need. All she felt was hallow when he didn't smile back, but she hadn't expected him to. He had plenty of reasons to hate her.

"The Fall needs a catalyst, and her journal said I pushed her out of this window."she said softly, shrugging her shoulder easily.

"She nearly drowned!"he hissed, eyes narrowed.

She narrowed her eyes back.

"She told me not to change the events before she left. I'm following her wishes."she hissed right back, stepping forward with a raised chin. She was a Fay dammit, she cowed to no one.

Least of all _him_.

"Don't you be bitter Mrs. Buchanan. You could have triggered it in a safer way."he said sternly.

The name of her husband sent a shot of ire through her, and she frowned at him.

"No, sorry Jay, it doesn't work that way. I fell off a house taller than this window when I Fell."came a tired, but pleasant voice.

She smiled. Nick Carraway stepped through the door, nodding politely to the goons.

"Hello, Nicky."she said softly, and despite all that happened years ago, he was smiling back.

"Daisy. What was your Fall again?"

"I Fell out of a moving car."she said, and winced as she remembered her broken arm that had resulted from it.

Lily had gotten lucky to Fall into a swimming pool.

"Well... I'm glad she wasn't hurt more than that. She's in for enough."said Jay Gastby, or James Gnatz, depending on who you asked, said, worriedly in that way of his. He ran a hand through his hair, blond, not a streak of gray or white in there.

Daisy sighed, and sat in one of the mold ridden couches. She did love him, more than she could say. But she had chosen the easy route. Twice in fact, in marrying Tom. And she loved Tom as well. She couldn't tell who she loved more; if she was asked now, it was Jay, if you asked her tomorrow, it could be Tom. But, she did know one thing...

She loved Lily more.

And that was why she had pushed her out the window no matter how much it made her miserable. Because Daisy _had_ made her choice. And now it was Lily's turn to do the same.

"So... Now what?"asked Gasby, coming over to sit as well. His foot tapped, his fists clenched...

She wondered at what a love-sick fool he was.

Nick sat as well, rolling his shoulders.

"We wait."he said.

And so they did.

Because it was all up to her now.


	4. Blood-Ties Of The Fay

To say that Lily was confused was saying something as obvious like the sky was blue, or the fact that Prohibition had been a horrible idea. It wasn't that the fact that the man from her dreams( _nightmares)_ had been inches in front of her, properly this time, or the fact that she had been pushed out of a window by her mother. It was the fact that her mother, two decades younger, was siting in front of her, looking as confused as she did. She was frowning, and the man so was the man who had dragged her away, from what she could see from the corner of her eyes, looked as confused as her.

She was trembling, eyes flickering back and forth with what looked like her mother, all done up like her in the same style, as the photographs she had seen in the Album room, in the twenties just before the Depression, just after the World War. Just as she had done up Lily not an hour before, pursing her painted lips in an attractive pout. She turned to her, raising a brow.

"Well. I wasn't expecting this. You showed no signs of the Inheritance."mused her mother, eyes glittering with joy, she reached over, and touched Lily's face. She flinched, and before she could think of anything as she felt that familiar hand(it was wrong, it should have been bonier, skin thinner and far more delicate), she lunged for the door.

She scrambled over Nick Carraway, her second cousin, younger by two decades as well, letting out a sob of confusion as she jumped out of the car. She didn't know where she was going, what she was doing, she just felt the urge to _get away_.

"Pamy! Pamy! Pamela! Pamela Lillian!"cried out her mother, rushing out of the car.

Lily stopped at her mother's yell of her full name, about a few yards away from the car, freezing with years of learning to know her mother's whims and commands. When her full name came into play, she knew that her mother was serious, or at least when she said her name. Lily sobbed, still so horribly confused as she turns around to stare at the two younger versions of her family as they stared back at her, with the gaze of people encountering a strange, exotic animal that wasn't in control. Her mother was painful to look at- it was like a carnival mirror, because it looked like Lily, down to the curve of chin to the shape of her lips, but stops at the same fine brows, because her's are light and fair, Lily's are dark, as is her brown hair, taken from her father's end, and the green eyes she had inherited from her paternal grandfather. She was even wearing white to her dark grown, as if they were photograph, and Lily felt like the negative.

If it weren't for her hair and eyes, the woman that was her mother, younger by nearly two decades could have been her twin. The man next to her was Nicky, a cousin that her mother talked about often, and sadly about. Lily herself had only ever seen him a couple times in her life; hazy memories of, well, the year he had lived across the bay in West Egg were in her mind, and strained Fay dinners across her life that happened only every couple of years or so.

"I know the Fall can be jarring darling, but please, you've been told all your life how this would work-"said her mother plainly, smiling at her like she was just a child again, not knowing how to behave properly.

" _What the hell is the 'fall'_!"screeched Lily, glaring at the pair of them.

Both Nicky and her mother blinked at each other at her hysterics, before her mother stepped forward, a frown marring her pretty face.

"Do you even know what is has happening to you?"asked her mother, whispering and suddenly looking very afraid.

"NO! No, I do not know what the in blazes is happening- _you pushed me out of window-_ " at this she jabs an accusing finger to her mother, stepping forward to jab again, this time in her chest for emphasis, and received a raised brow in return "- and all of the sudden there was water and some man I've been dreaming about pulls me out of the pool, and then _Nicky_ here drags me out of the party-"

"Pamela, I understand you're upset, and confused but please, calm down..."says Nick, calmly, soothingly. He had this sort of voice that could capture your attention and make you pause to listen.

Lily, for her part, was in no mood to be calm nor listen, and simply slapped the poor man for his efforts. The slap was a good one, loud and made his head snap to the side. Her chest heaved, and the palm of her hand stung, but she felt that it was worth it, _damn it_.

"Do _not_ tell me to calm down. I'm freezing cold, wet, just fell three damn stories, and I appear to be in front of my mother, two decades younger than the last time I saw her. I do not have to be calm."she seethed.

Her mother, ever the pleasant one, just smiled, stepped forward and looked her directly in the eye.

"Pamy, that may be true, but, at the very least you have to listen."she said softly.

Lily stared at her earnest, and confused face. And at the slightly shell shocked one of the man she had just slapped. Thinking of what she had been taught to do all her life by her parent's ill example, Lily breathed deeply through her nose, and exhaled heavily through her mouth. She pushed it all back, and allowed herself to fall behind years of being patient and overwhelmed, a farce well rehearsed for high society she wanted no part in. She did however, allow herself to scowl at them, her otherwise calm facade marred by it.

The fact that Nick Carraway suddenly gave her a warm smile, and handed her his coat only made her feel more miserable, even when she thanked him for it.

"I think, for the sake of avoiding confusion, you shouldn't call her by the name you do now Daisy."said Nick, polity, suddenly, looking at the outwardly calm young woman.

His cheek hurt(Pamela certainly was stronger than her frail appearance implied, something he attribute to Tom), and the slight tremble to her frame lead him to believe that the girl was more than willing to lash out once again in her frightened state. Daisy's brows furrowed, and he knew he had named the girl after her mother, who she loved very much, but still-

"Lily. I prefer to be called Lily." said the older voice of his second cousin, softly, in a firm, no nonsense tone.

Her mother frowned, pursing her red lips.

"Pamela is a wonderful name."she said, and she thought of her mother, whom she had named her precious daughter for.

"I like Lily."she responded, shrugging at the strange look her mother gave her. She felt like a sullen child with her mother looking at her like that.

She was pursing her lips, before nodding at Lily.

"It'll avoid confusion. Well, Lillian, you have to understand what happen to you is a gift of the Fay family."said her cousin, Nick soothingly.

"It happened to me, and it happened to your great-grandfather, and so on and so forth. It may happen to your children, and your children's children, so on, and so forth."said her mother, quietly.

Nick nodded, and continued;

"It is a gift to experience the wonders of different eras, to fix mistakes or play out another choice. That is the gift of the Fay. Or at least, a possible gift for those who have the blood."

"It is precious, and it is ours." gushed her mother, painted lips pulling into a wide smile.

"But, it can be very dangerous. Any time any of us appear, then we, as the Fay of this time and place have to make sure that you don't appear out of place. A bit before you arrived we felt the Pull, towards my neighbor's of all people... Well, luckily I got you out of there before anyone got too much of a good look a you." said her second cousin, smiling at her in obvious relief.

Lily thought to the blond man, who had most certainly got a good look at her.

"What about the dreams?"she snapped, and here her mother tried to soothe her with a charming coo.

"Oh, darling, the dreams are there to help you get a general idea of were you're going, why you're being sent back. How long ago did you start having them?"

"Little bit after the beginning of the summer."

"Lovely, Nicky just moved here, summer has just started. When did you Fall here?"

"Towards the end, I had about two weeks before school was going to start."

"You still go to finishing school?"

"I'm going to Oxford now, for two years. "she said, both proudly and coolly.

Her mother stared at her, a long blink, and a startled little open 'o' of a mouth. Nick shared her expression, and Lily lifted her chin in pride.

"I'm majoring in English literature. I love it in England."she said, and her mother just continued to look at her as if she couldn't quite understand her.

"Anyway, we should get you settled. You're our distant cousin."said Nick, brushing past the slight awkwardness.

"Yes, Lillian Fay. You're just in from out of the country- You'll stay with-"

"Me-Daisy because a form of her is already in your house and-"

"Nonsense Nicky she's my daughter-"

"Daisy, we don't have a choice-"

"Fine. But she'll have to stay some of the time with me Nicky-"

"If you insist, Daisy-"

"I do. First we'll go over my house to get some of my clothes, can't have her naked-"

Lily stared at the both of them, exhausted, still terribly confused.

"Then it's settled. Lillian?"Nick turned to her, and held out a gentlemanly hand out towards her.

Part of Lily still wanted to run- Far away, in the opposite direction of the younger version of her family in front of her. Put most of her was very conscious of the fact that she seemed to be in the twenties, judging by the fact that Nick was there, 1925, she was suppose to be three at this point. She was alone, no money, wet, cold in the summer heat, and she had no options. This could be one of her crazy dreams- But she felt the scraps of the glass that had snagged her skin and hair, the dripping weight of the beautiful dress against her skin, and all she could do was nod, sniffing, and accept the hand Nick offered her.

All she wanted was to be home in that horrible stiffening mansion with her parents and the people that were like what her family should have been to her.

But, like most of her life, it seemed that she would bow to her family's wishes simply because it was easier, and it was her best option.


	5. The Sleepwalker

**The Sleepwalker**

Lily woke up wishing desperately it was all a horrible, confusing and silly dream. Another of her strange, nonsensical nightmares that featured the blond man. After all, she had seen him, before being dragged off. She expected to wake up in her enormous white bed, feeling silly, frighten and eager to leave for England, or perhaps sleeping in the Library where her mother had found her in the dream. After all, it wasn't possible for a person to fall backward in time, a decade and then some after being pushed out of a window. That was ridiculous.

Instead, she woke up in her second-cousins bed, which he had given her until the extra set her mother had so graciously bought could be delivered for the unused attic in Nick's home. She had woken up to a small bit of light leaking through the old, musty curtains. She gasped at the sight of the beautiful mansion through the small gap in the curtains. The same mansion across the bay from the Buchanan ancestral home.

The same mansion that was suppose to broken down, decrypted and empty, as it had been as long as Lily could remember.

Thirteen years before, and the mansion was grand, beautiful and, last night, teaming with people.

Lily didn't want to move. The sheets she was tangled in smelled masculine, perhaps a day or two longer than it should have from being washed. She was wearing a nightgown her mother had bought, new of course, silky and should have felt divine on her. Instead, the low cut and boxy shape only served to remind Lily that she was a decade and more behind her real one, clinging and emphasizing her boyish figure, instead of trying to give the illusion of an hourglass one.

Lily felt sick, sudden and fast, without a word or any real indication that it was a action she was conscious of, she leaned over the side of the bed and spilled the contents of her stomach. Loudly and violently. It hit the floor with a surprisingly metallic thunk.

She didn't realize she wasn't alone in the room until she felt someone gently pull back the hair that had fallen into her face, and rub gentle circles in her back.

"There, there let it all out. I know you must feel sick to the stomach, I was when I Fell."hummed Nick Carraway. His voice wasn't terribly deep, but had a strange, soothing lit to it that made the tension in her body leak out with each word he spoke, "Everyone does. It's a side effect."

He let her retch for a bit longer, until Lily had spilled everything in her stomach. It wasn't much, thankfully, she had skipped dinner thanks to her mother. The fact that it was also because Lily had been pushed to the _past_ made her feel even sicker. She was immensely grateful that the mild lunch she had had: a sandwich and fruit, was already on the floor on the side of the bed. However, she didn't relish being forced to expel her food, no matter the circumstances, even if it let her feeling boneless and less nauseous.

Nick is patient, careful, leaning her against the headboard gently, and waits her out as she gathers herself. She's panting, and shaking, waves of disbelief and a sort of sick cold feeling turning in her already twisted stomach. She wonders that such a person can be related to her mother, especially when he offers a silk, but still somewhat worn handkerchief for her to wipe her mouth. She takes it, and watches him as he fetches her a glass of water from the side table. She feels flush, and hazy, as if her head wasn't quite connected with her body. Her breath is of the wheezing sort, chest heaving as if she quite can't get enough air in her lungs.

"How are you? I know it's difficult, and that's if you're warned ahead of time."he says softly, grasping her hand gently.

Lily feels her heart warm at his automatic gesture, last night, in her shock she had done everything to lash out, to fight her situation. After a surprisingly good night's rest, she felt herself settle into a state of acceptance and calm. She didn't understand what had happened to her, nor did she like it, but like much in her life, she was hard pressed to thrive despite it. Even if she felt as if she suddenly had a severe case of the flu.

"Still in shock, I suppose. I didn't think this was possible, not outside films or literature."she mummered, looking down at their held hands.

His hand was smooth, but had a slight callous that most likely developed from writing for hours long hand. She has very similar callous on her own writing hand, though not as prominent- she had a fondness for her small typewriter for finished work, and rough drafts in her journals. It marked them both as writers, She remembered him, vaguely, of this summer when she was seven years old, but of course, she had never been close to her parents until she was thirteen, a teenager was much easier to deal with, a little lady her mother had claimed, practically a princess her father had boasted. At seven, her life was full of lessons upon lessons, ballet, piano, riding, and sneaking away to play with Martha, Rose and Charlie.

As long as she was out of her parent's hair, they did whatever they could to keep her away from them.

"I'm sure. I was all out of sorts when I Fell. It was difficult and jarring, but at least I was prepared and was somewhat braced. You, for whatever reason, were not, and I'm sorry. Both Daisy and I will be your guide for this era, don't worry, Lillian."

His voice was calm, earnest, and as she looked up, his eyes were the same. She swallowed.

"My name isn't Lillian you know. Simply Lily."she said, and he smiled.

"Yes. I know, but Lillian is an appropriate name that doesn't connect too much with Pamela Lily, I think. And it'll help remove you from any connection to the you of this present, Lily was your father's mother's name, wasn't it?"

She looked down and nodded. It must have been why her mother had slipped- Called her Lillian back before she pushed her out the window, as well as her preferred name. It was either that or her mother had genuinely forgotten her middle name, both were very possible. It made her wonder, how much her appearance had thrown off her mother, even as she had made her look like that. She was raised to experience this thing, yet she had made several mistakes. That was such like her mother that it made her uneasy, how much had she slipped or looked at her when she had grown up? Frowning, she pushed away all thoughts of her mother causing her to 'fall' into the past, looked back up, taking in her second cousin's appearance.

"You must have places you have to be."she said, taking in his smart, if dated(to her) suit. It did not imply a day in, but rather a time out.

Nick shifted, checking his pocket watch and shrugging helplessly at her.

"I have work, but this is a priority. Daisy was suppose to be here an hour ago. I'll telephone my boss, and maybe when Daisy gets here I can get a later shift-"

She frowned at his explanation, at the flightiness of her mother that dwelled even here, thirteen years in the past. She looked away, old resentment towards her mother raising up, and thought of how unfair it was for this man to be saddled with a clueless woman from the future, a woman that little more than a child to him in the present. Seven years old, that was what she was at this time. Beyond that, as much as she hate to be alone, she also didn't want to be anywhere near this man, his appearance and mannerism were so starkly dated that it grated against her 30's perspective.

Not only that, but the fact that she had been more or less independent from her parents since she was eighteen. Not financially, but that was because Lily was a fool to not use to what her parents could provide. She refused to take a scholarship from anyone who couldn't afford what her parents could, a petty revenge for using her money for something constructive against their years of frivolity in the wake of the nation's financial struggles. Now, the coddling that her mother and Nick intended to give her made her want to run from the room if she was physically able.

"Go to work, I'll be fine. I'm not a child. I'm twenty years old and I doubt I'll even leave the house."she said, and Nick Carraway's hand squeezed her's for a brief second.

"No, Lillian." he said, and his voice was firm and unmoving.

She swallowed thickly, simply because it was the first time in anyone near her mother's and father's circle had taken responsibility that seriously in front of her.

"You could lose your job."she said firmly, and the man shrugged.

"Yes, and you could get hurt, confuse the wrong person with your perception of the future, Lillian. I don't wish for the entire Fay clan to be gunning for your blood."

That sets a chill down her spine, and she swallows at the thought of such a thing. Her mother's family had always been cold to her- she never knew why nor cared to know, they were just like her mother and father, blue-bloods with a destructive streak. She made a point to avoid those in 'her' social circle. However, unlike her father, who was the last of the Buchanans, the Fays were plentiful and long reaching series of politicians, judges and evidently had a lot of power backing them. The Fays were an old tree, blue in every vein, and cold to the core. They were vicious and spiteful, especially towards her and her mother, they never even bothered to include her father in anything, and while Lily wasn't terrible fond of her parents as people, they were her parents _dammit_.

Looking at it, she wondered if it was because she hadn't shown to inherit whatever it was that caused 'the Fall'. To think of her mother's side of the family going after her made something deep inside her scream, and bitter to the core.

"No, I don't suppose I do."she sniffed, and she didn't miss the measuring look that Nick sent her.

"They were not kind to you, I'd expect."

She bared her teeth.

"Nor to me, my father or my mother. There's no love lost between the Fays and the Buchanans. It was as if as soon as I was eight years old they stopped bothering to be kind towards us. My father was just a pocket book they wanted, and my mother evidently didn't produce what they wanted." she said, and again she felt old childhood confusion and fear rear its ugly head.

"Ah. Eight is the age that marks the age of any inclination towards Falling. Daisy is going to have to lie about you so the past you remember keeps true."muttered Nick, squeezing her hand, getting up to pace the room.

He was writing in a small red book, most likely to keep tabs of everything they were experiencing for future reference. She sighed, head aching at the entire ordeal, just as Nick was going to open the windows and rummaging through the one of the many suitcases of clothing her mother had sneaked away into the car last night. Lily never thought she would have to wait outside her own childhood home like a stranger, or even think that inside that very same home a seven-year-old her was being cared for. It had been so unreal, so strange, thinking how much she had wanted to never return there. But when the option was gone- She rubbed her arms, weakly lifting her hands to do so, and the dressing gown that Nick suddenly tossed at her landed in her lap.

"Downstairs, breakfast time."he mused, and she felt her stomach twist at the thought.

He smiled at her face.

"Better eat now, it'll help, trust me."

She nodded, and felt a little off center as she tugged on the gown, as well as a pair of slippers. She was her mother's size in pretty much anything, slender, and tall. It was a nightmare to buy anything off the rack, as she had once tried once she was on her own in England, trying to blend in with her classmates and take off the large, for sale sign proclaiming her as an single, blue-blood American with money. She had gotten rather adept at adjusting to her size, and had taken rapidly to English fashion to blend in. She was quiet by nature, so her accent was a rare surprise for her classmates.

She blinked as she stood. Well, if she was stuck here than that wouldn't be a problem anymore, she froze, eyes wide.

It had never occurred to her to ask-

"I-"

She felt her knees buckle both at the sudden thought, and the fact that her legs weren't quite enough to support her. Nick surprised her again by catching her, whipping around and easily picking her up when she couldn't stand.

It was implied that she would go home, she could read subtext. But there was a slim chance. She didn't know anything and she was thirteen years in the damn past, she had visions of this occurring before-hand, so anything was possible. She could be stuck here. She could be forced to live out the thirteen years, aging along with her mother. Thirty-three was not old. But it was ancient in comparison to twenty and despite her mother's and father's inclination of being young in the face, she doubted her classmates would be blind to the aging of a decade.

"Are you alright?"

She blinked, and sighed, feeling her head fall into the nape of his neck.

"I'm not stuck in this time period, am I?"

Nick blinked, and he laughs, shaking his head.

"No. No you're not. You'll Rise back to your own time. Let me help you downstairs, I forgot about the weakness. It's been so long- I'm sorry 'bout that. At least I caught your sick..."he said nodding to the two small tubs he had set up at the edge of the bed.

She feels herself flush embarrassed of being sick, carried, and completely clueless of everything, but keeps quiet as he takes her down stairs.

The kitchen is small, sparse, and completely charming, much like the rest of the small home she is able to see past Nick's shoulder. He is very adept at doing things with one hand, because he manages to balance her thin, but tall frame on one arm to bustle around his kitchen and start to heat up a pot of what looks like soup. The back porch is visible through the glass door, and she eyes the vast expanse of woods that surround the back of the property, a dim and idiotic plan forming in her mind.

Nick's house is slightly run down, but it screams of easy comfort and it reminds her of her of the small flat in Oxford. The meal he made for her is light and she gratefully eats the thin soap, resting heavily against the back of the sofa in the living room Nick had placed her in. When she finishes, he arranges her into a restful position, swinging her legs up on the sofa as he places her slippers on the floor.

He checks his pocket watch for the second time, and she sighs in a whistle.

"Go to work Nick."she says, and she smiles grateful at both the book and the blanket he tosses over her legs.

He frowns, and looks at his watch.

"Lillian-"

"My mother will be along, and I'm feeling rather tired still. Just go."

He hesitates, but watches her half lidded eyes, her tired attempt at a smile.

"Daisy should be here any second. There's food in the ice chest if you get your appetite back, and you will- Daisy has the key so don't answer the door."he says in quick succession.

She nods, and makes a show of leaning her head back, and closing her eyes. The pressure of lips against her temple makes part of her start, not used to such a gesture, but she feels herself smile at the kindness in her second cousin. She almost feels guilty.

"We'll explain everything further later. I swear. Be well, Lillian."

She nods, swallowing.

"Have a good day."

She hears his rushed footsteps as he gathers his jacket, and suitcase, and a door somewhere in the house slam. The front one is next, she can tell by its closeness and the tumblers being locked. She waits, opening her eyes. The house is utterly still in the morning light, and all Lily can hear is her still wheezing breath and the sound of a clock somewhere in the room. She still waits, eyes flittering around the room until she finds the clock on the mantle above the fireplace. She waits another five minutes total, before she swings her heavy legs and stuffs them into the thin, delicate slippers. She breathes deep, ignoring her wheezing, and gets up, throwing the blanket aside. She is strong enough to stand this time, the soup enough to make her head clear.

Lilly doesn't want to believe.

But she is no fool.

That doesn't mean she has to be a good girl and take it.

She stumbles towards the kitchen, and fumbles with both the glass and the screen door. The faint, summer breeze is a startling relief and she nearly sobs at the feeling. Because that doesn't change no matter when she is, and she can take a vicious comfort in that sensation. Tentative, and with Nick's disapproval and warnings in her ears, she takes a shaky step outside, and starts a slow, hard path across the porch, down the steps, and towards the woods. She knows she should back inside, actually sleep, or maybe wait for her mother, but Lily is in desperate need to be alone.

So she enters the woods, and when she feels she can, gaining her strength and clearing her head the more she moves, takes off at a clumsy, painfully slow run.

She doesn't stop running until she hits a break in the trees, and she goes towards the sunlight peaking through the undergrowth. She didn't know that she was on a hill- specifically a hill that slopes towards a small, thin stretch of beach no more than a hundred feet or so long and a forty or so feet wide- until her house slippers hits the sand, and she's tumbling down a small dune. She stops just short of the water, heaving and wheezing, coughing out the sand that entered her mouth.

At first, Lily thinks that the soft spray of the ocean is the cause of the wetness on her face, until she feels mucus tumble on her upper lip and she knows she's sobbing. She lets it happen, curling on the sand of the beach and trying to make sense of her situation away from the glaring reminders of it. She doesn't know how long she is on the beach- When she feels the water hit her, she crawls away, and sits up.

 _Get a grip_ , she thinks, looking up at the blue, blue sky, _Thirteen years, I'm seven in 1925_.

When her mother had informed her gleefully of when she was, she had nearly fainted. She doesn't know what to feel, what to do. Her entire world felt as if it had tilted upside down and shaken by some great force. She sighed, letting herself fall back onto her back with a soft thud and sand spraying everywhere. She had no energy, no thoughts, and she felt if she closed her eyes she could pretend she was back in 1938.

"Miss? Miss are you alright?"screams a familiar voice, and Lily bolts upwards, back turned away from the voice and a sick feeling screaming in her.

Desperately, she wipes at her face, under her nose and tries, and fails to stand up, the sudden strength that had granted her some stability, and this far away from the house of her cousin was gone. She flops uselessly on the floor, and she cries out in both frustration and fear. Someone touches her shoulders, and she tenses, and allows them to turn her around.

It's the blonde man.

Her heart shudders.

He is even more handsome than she had ever expected- The hazy dreams of the this era giving him no justice, but all she can think is that he looks so young and boyish compared to the mature man she saw die in her vision. Like always, he seems to be fashionably dressed, crisp in what looks to be some sort of boat wear, that hasn't changed much in the style in the decade she comes from. His eyes, his eyes never changed, blue and intense and at the moment so goddamn surprised as soon as he catches a glimpse of her face.

She blinks, petrified.

"You were at the party, yesterday."he says, and he blinks himself, "You fell into the pool and then you were dragged out of the party after I saved you-"

She licks her lips, and nearly screams. Her mind is whirling.

"I'm a sleepwalker."she blurts, surprising herself at the strange turn of her thoughts, but she goes with it, Nick's mention of the Fay propelling her to make something up some sort of reason why that had occurred.

"What-"

"I'm so wretchedly sorry, I'm visiting my cousin see, just off the boat, fell asleep right away, didn't bother to change-and, well, I forgot to lock my room, must have slipped past Nick- "she continues, eyes wide and earnest, trying to channel her mother's expert lying skills. She always did something with her eyes and made a soft face-

The man's eyes widen, and he pales slightly.

"I-"

"I was dreaming of my mother, I think, I can remember that much, see she died recently, and I must have slipped into the pool of Nick's neighbor, I'm so embarrassed."

For good measure, Lily lets her head fall into her face. The man clears his throat.

"No need to be embarrassed, I'm glad you weren't hurt then, are you hurt now?"

She looks up, peaking through her fingers. He looking at her, utterly perplexed and worried. She shakes her head vigorously.

"What are you doing, and dressed as you are?"he says, and he pointedly takes off his jacket, white and pristine, and drapes it across her shoulders.

She flushes, conscious of her dressing gown and while what she was wearing wasn't risque per say, not by her standards, she has no idea if it is by the twenties standards.

"I wanted to take a walk, the woods looked so peaceful, and _alone_. I couldn't find my shoes for one, so I took my slippers, didn't bother to change, it's so early I had thought I wouldn't bump into anyone- And of course I fall down, tumbled down the beach, and started to have a good proper cry about it when you arrived."

She feels embarrassed at the whole situation, but glad of her quick thinking. She stares into his blue eyes, begging him to buy her bullshit.

"James."he blurts, seemingly startling himself, before he gathers himself, "Call me Jay. I mean-I prefer Jay- I'm Jay Gatsby."

He runs a hand through his hair, the thick and chunky emerald ring, glinting in the sunlight. She smiles, charmed by his obvious nerves, flattered by it really, and offers a hand to shake.

"Lillian Fay. Call me Lily."she offers, gald of not screwing up her alias in the past.

He raises a brow at her hand, and she wonders if that was too thirties of her, when he extends his own for a firm shake. His eyes are suddenly very, very searching as he looks at her. They're calculating, even in his bewildered state.

"Are sure you aren't hurt, you couldn't even stand..."

She shrugs helplessly.

"I've been ill lately, I seemed to have over taxed myself in my walk."

"Would you like some assistance getting back to your cousin's house?"

The very thought makes her sick to her stomach, but she knows for sure that she has too.

"Please. My m- _Cousin_ Daisy must be worried sick."she mutters, as he swings her into his arms, just as Nick had earlier.

The man, Jay, pauses, freezes actually. Stock still. She glances at him curiously, ignoring his closeness, and he has gone so white that it sickly reminds her of the moment her dream of his older self had gotten the wound in his chest.

"Ah, Mister Gastby?"

He blinks at the sound of his name, before he very carefully, instead of heading towards the woods, goes towards the end of the beach, where a wooden ramp sloops neatly up the hill, leading towards the mansion across the bay. She blinks.

"I-"

"I rather take make sure you're alright Lily, have a Doctor on staff, shouldn't be more than a few minutes-"

"But-"

They power through the enormous and lavish pool area, heading towards the mansion across the bay to a series of surprised array of servants, seemingly waiting for Jay Gatsby. The man was obviously very wealthy, and very unused to hearing a negative to what he had in mind. Lily felt a little overwhelmed, swept off her feet in a literal sense, not in a romantic one.

"I insist. Can't have your condition getting _worse_. Jonathan, Jonathan, fetch Doctor Brown, that's it, Old Sport!"

One of the men scurries away, while one of the others jumps forward to open the enormous double doors for them.

"Please Mister Gatsby-"

"Jay please, ah, Doc Brown, here's your new patient, been recently ill, had a bit of a fall, do make sure she's alright."he says this in quick succession, and gently lays her down in a elegantly enormous room with a creamy sofa that felt divine on her sore body.

Doctor Brown is a nervous, heavy sort of man that avoids eye contact for the most part. Its after a few minutes of his stuttering voice and her own responses, that he turns to the man lingering at the edge of the sofa. Gatsby nods, and Doctor Brown breathes a shuttering breath.

"You have a bit of extreme fatigue Miss,ah,-"

"Lillian Fay."she supplies, raising a brow.

"Miss Fay, yes, nothing a few days of rest and some good food wouldn't cure, as long as you take it easy, dear."he said the last part extremely kindly, watery brown eyes softening at her.

Gatsby clears his throat, it's a firm steady noise that seems to alarm Doctor Brown. He gives her a sort of smile before he scurries away.

"Your trip must have exhausted you. Where did you come from?"he asked, smiling broadly as he sits down delicately at the edge of the sofa, at her feet. His arm goes on the back of the sofa, and he is a picture of ease and wealthy charm.

The best lies, she finds, are always the lies that have the truth in them.

"England."she says softly.

"I do love England. Went to school there, Oxford you know."he mentions.

She smiles a flutter of delight at a fellow student, opens her mouth to respond so had she- But then she snaps her mouth closed. The allowance of females in Oxford had been recent- Just before her eighteenth birthday*… Eleven years in the future. Instead she finds herself losing her smile, and hums, looking pleasantly polite. Trying to find a way of getting out this room, the certainty that she could give something away increasing in a way she had never expected. Well, it worked once, she thought, and leans her head back, turning her blinks long and slow.

Gatsby cuts off mid-sentence, and smiles. She is never more grateful for her mother's lessons of deception, something that she had never used ever before. Despite leaving her in the dark, it seemed that her mother had trained her for this at least in a second hand way.

"You rest easy- I'll go call for a meal Miss Fay, you look peckish.."he hesitates, before he grips her hand, beaming at her. Gently, even as if he wasn't sure what he was doing, a sign of unsurity in his own manners, a learned trait of the newly rich her father would say, and kisses the back of her scratched, dirty hand.

He gets up, all jittery and overly eager, striding from the room in a gleeful swagger. Lily doesn't waste time and gets up as soon as she can see him turn a corner through the open door, and turns to the window. She can see Nick's house from there- Thankfully, and she notes her mother's car in a shadow of the big oak tree in the front yard. She breathes deep, still wheezing, and stumbles to her feet, tossing his creamy jacket onto the white sofa. She is a mess, and she can hardly stand, but she rather get out of this situation before she actually does something that will bring the Fays after her blood. She manages to get to the window, throws it open, and drags herself out.

She falls on her front with a painful thud, and she whimpers at the pain, her eyes blurring slightly, black spots across her vision. She forces herself stand, wheezing breath and starts to stumble across the immaculate lawn, downhill. She prays, she wishes that no one will see her leaving, and ignores her blurring vision until she reaches the tall fence that separates the two properties. Lily grips the cold metal bars… If she can just get her hips though she thinks, licking her lips. She tries it, wiggling her hips through the bars sideways. She actually manages to get part of the way through, before she feels herself sag in exhaustion.

She doesn't move, exhausted, leaning her head onto the cool, wrought iron bar.

"PAMY?!"screech's her mother, and Lily blinks, and nearly crying out in relief.

Her mother runs to her, looking half wild, twigs in her hair and dirty smudged on her perfectly ruined make-up. Her eyes are red, and Lily feels a spasm of love for her obviously frightened mother. This is practically the second time she has seen her mother this unperfect, and a little part of her, the pettiest part, feels a victory to see that her mother does care for her. But most of her just wants to get out of Gatsby's property.

"Help me through."she hisses, and her mother grabs a hold her hips, and helps carefully wiggle her through the bars.

Both of them fall onto a heap once she slips through. Her mother is clutching at her, and Lily is wheezing, and feels herself slipping into unconsciousness.

"You stupid, stupid girl. Do you know how worried I was?! Nicky is going to kill us. Oh Pamy."she whispers, and she brings her to her chest, and she hums a lullaby to try to soothe Lily, and her own hysteria.

Lily is gone even before she hears the second note of the lullaby she had heard in her childhood, on the few nights her mother had graced her with her presence.

 **000000000000**

Jay Gatsby stares at the empty room, a tray of fruit, a sweet wine and a divine little pasta his chef had whipped together at his demand. He lays the tray down, and stares at the wide open window, the breezy, white curtains, feeling the wind on his face. He glances at his discarded jacket. He feels a muscle tick in his jaw and rubs at it to ease the tension.

 _She did say she was a sleepwalker_ , he muses, and wonders how exhausted young woman was to have fallen asleep so rapidly.

It is in his nature, to be able catch out a liar. He was always excellent at catching liars. The girl hadn't seemed to be lying. But, he also knew that the girl had Daisy's face. Even then, that ethereal girl had been difficult to read, but he had learned her tells, all those years ago. Had it really been ten? Part of him tightens at the thought, all that time without her, it had given him time to measure up to what she deserved, but it had been no less painful.

The stunned feeling when he caught the girl's face last night after dragging her out of his pool… He never thought he would see Daisy is such circumstances. It was only after he had met her intense green eyes, taken in her dripping, brown hair that he had seen that it wasn't her. The disappointment had been crushing- but he was a fool not to assume that she was related to Daisy. So he had chased after her intent on making her speak to him, perhaps find a less murky way to see Daisy again other than using Nick Carraway, and today, seeing her on the beach looking so distressed…

It had reminded him of that night he had told Daisy of his leave, she had cried that night as well, been so beautiful in the starlight. The girl had been perhaps a little less eloquent than his Daisy, she did not have that brilliant aura of that drew you in like a sun and its planetary bodies. But Lillian Fay… Lillian Fay was clearly a bewildered, grieving woman. Her mother had died, if he recalled, and she seemed to have come to find solace with her cousins. Considering the fact that Nick Carraway, and an unknown driver had come to find her last, it was obvious that… Her medical condition was well known. He felt a bit of a cad, leaving her alone, when it was obvious that she wasn't well, physically and perhaps mentally.

But, well, with her connection to Daisy- Well, mental or physical ill or not… She was vulnerable. He smiled, glancing at the window.

She could be useful.

His key to meeting Daisy once again.

* * *

 **AN: I do not own The Great Gatsby, or its characters, just my plot and the characterization of an adult Pamela Buchanon.**

 ***Oxford had female colleges at this point in time, in fact, since the late 1800s. They did not have co-ed classes in Oxford proper until 1948, which I changed to simply fit the story line, and make sure Lily has several connections to the main characters of the Great Gatsby. So, for the sake of the story, it was in 1936 that co-ed classes started, and this was when Lily started to attend. I'll try not to make to many liberties with things historically, but this is one of the few times when I'll fudge things.**


	6. Signs of the New

**Signs of the New**

Lily woke up once again in bed, head aching, breath slightly wheezy. It was dark, either dusk or dawn, with long, feathery shadows and fiery remains of the sun bathing the room in a red, golden glow. It was a large room, it must expand the entirety of the small house, with many windows lining the slanted, peaked walls caused by the roof. The attic than. Her mother must've brought furniture over for her stay, all white and beautiful. It reminded Lily vividly of her own room in the Buchanan home. She shivered slightly as she stared at it all, reminded that despite all the differences between her father and mother, how money was spent was never one of them.

Lily huffed. She tossed her covers away. Paused, testing the steadiest of her breath. It wasn't wheezing as harshly as before. Her head felt- clear. She blinked. Carefully, Lily placed put on her borrowed house slippers(they were new, different than the ones she had worn this morning) and eased herself out of bed. She didn't feel one hundred percent herself. In fact, she felt as if she had just recovered from a severe cold. But she felt…

 _Steadier._

She carefully looked around and picked up a clean, silk dressing gown over her white silk sleepwear. She felt frightfully embarrassed at the spectacle she had made of herself. James Gatsby must think her insane, she thought with another small huff. She didn't even want to think of what kind of reaction Nick and her mother were going to have when they realized she had spoken to people of this decade. She rubbed her forehead tiredly with both hands.

She shakes her head, glares at the walls before she makes deliberate steps towards the door. She was a grown woman that had needed to clear her head and she does not regret going outside, even if she had met with the strange and forceful Mr. Gatsby. So what if she seemed insane? She doubted she would have much to do with her Cousin Nick's neighbor anyway. She made her way downstairs and much to her surprise, her mother and Nick were waiting for her.

Sipping tea as well as they pleased, talking in calm voices. They are both surrounded by dozens upon dozens of bouquets of flowers, bright and beautiful. Lily pursed her lips and cleared her throat delicately. Daisy and Nick turned, Daisy herself blinking at her.

"Good Morning, Pamy," her mother enthused, blinking at her rather ragged appearance no doubt. She hadn't even bothered to wash her face or brush her tangled dark hair. She kept a beaming smile in place, even as Lily recognized her small furrow of distaste or embarrassment between her fine, thin brows.

She smiled, a bit ferally at her distaste. Even now she was judging her for her appearance and frankly, Lily was too emotionally wrought and physically exhausted to feel more than contempt for it. Instead of her usual resignation and embarrassment. She squared her thin shoulders in both pride and determination not appear affected by her mother's own hang-ups.

"Good evening I hope you mean," she mentioned casually, carefully walking over to the spare armchair, gracefully descending on it as her mother had so mercilessly drilled her to do, that at least, earned her a smirk of approval, "I had no idea I would sleep so long."

"It is morning, Lily, I'm afraid. You will feel exhausted for a few days. But it get's better each day."

Lily hummed in agreement. It was getting better. That much was certain she felt a little better knowing she was not going to be an invalid for all of her… Stay here in 1925.

"This came for you yesterday afternoon," mentions Nick and he gestures to the various flowers strewn about the room.

Lily frowns, she had figured as much. James Gatsby was a man that never did things by half, it seemed, but his fixation and overzealousness needed to be addressed.

"Oh dear. Apparently, I made an impact on your neighbor."

Daisy giggles. She looks so viciously pleased that Lily feels a bit sick.

"Fay women have that effect, darling."

Nick sighs, rubbing his tired eyes.

"It shouldn't be a concern. You did lie of your circumstances?"

"He must think I'm very mentally ill, but he certainly seems to believe me when I told him I was a vicious sleepwalker who's mother just passed," she said, accepting a heavy, expensive little card when Nick offered it.

It was hand written, of course, it seemed that James Gatsby never did anything by halves, with an expensive ink that… Well, it appeared to be gold, but she wondered if he was so eager to show off his wealth. Still, his penmanship was painfully done; a sign of the newly rich her father would say. It was too rigid, did not come naturally put from hours of practice of an adult, not a child taught since birth.

 _Terrible of you to run off, Miss Fay, even without you doing it intentionally. But I suppose my company was not as comforting as that of your family. Do stop by the house whenever you can. Feel better and enjoy the flowers, they're only half as beautiful as you._

 _~J_

She hummed.

"Forward man," she mentioned, carefully placing the card aside, into one of the collection of flowers. It was a beautiful, zealous arrangement of Lilies, bright and bombastically exotic variety. Flown in special, perhaps?

Lily herself had always been very fond of Lily of the Valley. Small and understated, like her in the wake of the forceful parents. Not a single sprig of them was found amongst the exotic blooms. It was all colors and noise- nothing meaningful or portraying a message.

No small wonder her mother adored it.

"My neighbor."

She nodded, absently, touching the soft petals of a mourning Lily. She had always enjoyed the language of flowers- wonders that a newly moneyed man had no knowledge of such things.

"Caught his eye already, hmmm, Pamey?" Her mother's eyes were bright and much more amused then Lily felt comfortable with.

She shrugged, careful not to let it show. Let it show with her parents and they would drag it all out, gleefully and without a care. Pook and prod until it was bare and raw, they would delight in the novelty and the pain of it, all with bright enthusiastic smiles. And then they would drop it, exposed and painful when they were done bored with it, without giving it a backward glance.

"You should go and thank the man."

Lily raised a brow.

"I thought I was supposed to avoid people."

Daisy's eyes glittered.

"That's half the fun."

Nick grunted, the first inelegant sound her cousin had ever done in front of her, despite his lesser circumstances, he was a _Fay_ after all. If not by name but blood.

"Daisy, it was fine for a first encounter, but unless he was in the dreams-"

Lily's heart sank. Images of her blood coated hands and his assurance that he loved her came to mind.

"And if he was?" she asked, quickly, heart beating like a drum in her chest.

Her mother and Nick turned quickly to each other, brows raised. Daisy smirked and Nick gave a sigh and a reluctant nod. Lily's stomach fell.

"Then I suppose a quick visit wouldn't be a miss," beamed her mother, jumping up and down in the enthusiasm of a child.

Lily pursed her lips.

"I say no."

But one did not say no to Daisy Fay Buchanan. Not even her daughter. She was dressed in a white, casual gown(gorgeous lace and a plunging neckline, loose and obscuring her non-existence figure, but form fitting at the same time draping over her in a way that made her feel exposed), her makeup done and her hair curled, a pinned up in away so she seemed to have short hair, curled and boyish. Earrings and pearls, silver glittering at her fingertips. She felt as if she were an oversized doll- and as Daisy beamed at her, she could tell she was the capricious child playing with her.

She had a thank you note in her hands and promptly shooed out the door, Nick at her elbow once her mother deemed it an appropriate time to call on Nick's neighbor. Her mother, on the other hand, returned home with a smirk on her face. Nick sighed, tugging at his second-hand suit with a small tug that emphasized his physique. It was automatic and so unconscious that Lily would put her family fortune that her handsome third cousin had been trained as Lily and her mother had been; to always show themselves to their best advantage.

"Your mother is such a commanding woman. We used to call her the General at family meetings," he said, trying for humor.

Lily snorts at her Cousin's earnest and happy face.

"Why am I not surprised?"

They knock on the impressive door and to their surprise, the man of the house, answers the door. He is all charms and smiles as he does, face open and free of strain. Then, quite suddenly, he sees her. And she knows, as clear as day as he blinks at her that he is surprised at her appearance. She had been a disheveled mess both times- the first wet, dripping and running make-up and soggy, heavy clothes, the second with sand filled night clothes and snot filled face. Now, she is poised and beautiful- she looked too much like her mother so she cannot be anything but- and he is stunned that she can be so lovely. It is not a vanity on her part, but she feels a little better that she does not look nor act as a mad woman as he looks at her with the vivid blue eyes.

"Miss Fay!" he says, stunned and blinking rapidly at her.

She tries for a smile. She very much succeeds- she had learned from her mother after all. It is an easy, lovely smile that her mother had drilled for her to perform naturally. It was a slight curl of her both lips, to purse her lips ever so carefully, to part them tantalizingly. Lily does it as Nick does, unconscious, as a default smile to show this man that she is not insane nor touched of the head. After all, her cousin and mother seemed to be adamant that if he was in the dreams, that he was the reason she had 'Fallen'.

"Call me Lily, at least, Mister Gatsby," she extends her thank you card, ignores the way he blinks and how his hand lingers on her fingertips before he snaps it back as if she had pinched or slapped his hand, she ignores it. Casually, she extends her hands in a lovely, casual gesture to rest her hand on Nick's chest, she smiles wider, turning to her cousin with a small nod, "This is my lovely cousin, Mister Nick Carraway, he's been as so kind as to let me stay with him this summer. Nick, this is Jay Gatsby."

"Good, nice, to meet you old sport!" exclaims the blond man, rushing forward and shaking Nick's hand vigorously and firmly. Nick takes the shake bewilderedly before he quickly school's himself and smiles at the man.

Lily herself blinks at the enthusiasm. But she was a Buchanan and Fay all in one- She was had been trained at a young age to appear unaffected and blissfully happy and polite. She had never really aspired to act so much as her mother or father, but she can not lie that it has been useful in this whole strange, fantastical event.

"Nice to meet you. I understand that Lily has been giving you a bit of trouble," Nick looks at her, places a lingering, comforting hand at the nape of her neck, "I apologize. She's had a difficult time as of late, what with my Aunt passing."

"Yes, Nick has been ever so darling. Haven't you, love? Given me a chance for some sea air," she said, cheerfully, even as part of her wilted at the very tedious conversation.

"Very good of you Old Sport, won't you come in?"

Without even waiting for their answer, he is behind them, hands on both their shoulders as he all but pushes them inside his posh, rich house. He leads them with the enthusiasm of a puppy, babbling about one thing or another of the rich decor or the greatness of his servants. They all part like the red sea, quick, so fast she would call it a miracle.

"Care for breakfast, any of you?" said Gatsby, happily, "Imported my chef all the way from France, he trained in Italy and Spain at my request!"

Part of Lily squirms, the thought of Italy, what with its Fascist and the Spaniards as well- but not yet. Not quite. But most of her is careful and pleasant as they politely decline the invitation for breakfast.

"We have only come to thank you, Mister Gatsby," said Nick, smiling somewhat timidly.

"We would hate to impose," she says, trying to escape the grip he has on his shoulders.

"Nonsense!"

And suddenly there on his richly adorned patio, overlooking his private beach as people fly about eating a lavish breakfast.


	7. The Green Eyed Moon

**The Emerald Eyed Moon**

Jay can't seem to stop himself from staring at Lily Fay. It's sort of uncanny, really, what with her face and figure, he would take her not as Daisy's cousin but her twin sister, for everything about her is that much like his Daisy. Even her form of dress, innocent and wonderful, beautifully dainty as his Daisy was... The only difference is her hair, a rich chocolate mass of curls that draped elegantly around her face, pinned and tucked and her eyes, vividly green, like the emerald in his ring. _Faintly, he recalls the light on Daisy's dock._ She moves with grace and confidence, quite unlike the last few times he has seen her. She is not the slightly touched woman who had fallen into his pool or tumbled onto his beach. She is a woman, beautiful and poised.

But she is not his Daisy.

Oh, he can see parts of his Daisy, the smile, the way she moved her hands- but she is not a brilliantly shining thing that his golden girl had been at fifteen- she is soft and subdued. She is not bombastic smiles and a purring voice. She is soft and when she smiles, it makes her green eyes sparkle in a way, warm, quiet and quite unlike the lovely brilliance of Daisy's frequent smiles. She's the moon, as Daisy is the sun. But a planetary body that turns the heads of men and makes them sport poetry of her beauty and grace.

And she is not his Daisy.

"Now, Lily, what are your plans for this Summer?" he asked, smiling. He hides his hands- they always moved despite how many times he tried to control them. He was more nervous now, did not see himself in power over this woman as he did over the creature he had met twice.

The woman looks automatically to her cousin, the only sign that his question disturbed her was a slight furrow of her elegantly arched brows.

"Just a sort of vacation- She needs a break, away from her studies-" says the man, Nick, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Gatsby has not gotten where he was by not seeing weakness or new information.

"Studies?"

His mind is blank, he pegged her for being Daisy's age but it seems she is younger- He feels twice a cad, using a girl- The girl smiles, cups her face with a hand as delicate as glass and thin and dainty. The gesture is so like Daisy that something twists in his stomach. He felt even worse, was she just as beautiful and wonderful as her cousin?

 _But no one was as wonderful as his Daisy._

"I'm studying Literature, in England… At Oxford," she said sharply, looking at her cousin with a raised brow.

Immediately, a bit of his guilt eases. She was as old as he thought. Good. He didn't want to be a complete bastard as he used her to arrange a meeting.

"Oh, I went to Oxford, you know!"

"You've mentioned it."

"Did you attend the women's college?"

Her lips pursed, but she nodded.

"Amazing!"

Her lips curl.

"Yes," her voice is a soft pretty mummer that reminds him of Daisy, makes his stomach flutter, "What did you study?"

Gatsby felt uneasy at the innocent question. Green, vivid eyes look at him in question and in curiosity.

"Business," he answered, vaguely, not really knowing what else to say.

"You've done well for yourself, Gatsby," mentions Nick, smiling jovially.

Gatsby grins, waving a dismissive hand.

"Oh, just a little here and there, old sport!"

"And the food is delicious," mentions the girl easily, "My compliments to your chef and choice of him."

"Just had him whip it together."

"I disagree," said Nick, smiling as he sipped at his orange juice.

"It is lovely," said the girl, smiling slightly, just a soft upturn of her dainty lips(thinner than Daisy's he was absolutely sure), "I can't help but feel as if you're spoiling us, Mister Gatsby."

"Jay, please," he said, automatically, not liking the name formal way of 'Gatsby' from the lips of someone so like his Daisy.

"Alright… Jay," she said simply, tilting her head into her hands, cradling it softly.

He swallowed at how lovely she was-

 _She was not his Daisy._

"Yes, the same to you Old Sport-"

"Then call me Nick-"

"Gladly- Now, how say you two take a spin with me in my car, new, just freshly painted-"

"Nicky, I dare say we have overstayed our welcome," said the girl, suddenly, clapping her hands.

Gatsby frowned, turned to her- And saw that she was pale as a sheet. Nick frowned, set down his glass.

"Lily?"

She shook her head, hand to her head in a sign of either fatigue or pain. Immediately, his mind goes to how he has seen her, disheveled and tired and he feels like a Frog as her already pale face looks so sickly. He feels an ass. She must be of a frail health in general. Very unlike Daisy. Daisy was perfectly healthy.

 _Enough to have a daughter by that brute. It was a good thing that he loved children._

"Are you alright Lily?"

"Daisy- Daisy wanted us to visit her and her husband, for lunch. Demanded it," she said softly, "I would love to get a nap in before then."

Gatsby is not exactly a proud man- But he did have pride in his love for Daisy. So at the mention of her name, of course, he slips. His fumbles with his glass drops it on the ground in a scatter of glass and juice. He flushes as the cousins look at him, blinking rapidly at the mess he has made. He laughs it off, gestures to Tom, a servant, without missing a beat and cursing himself for being such an oaf.

"Clumsy of me. So sorry. Let's me walk you both home, then, if you are so sure I can't impose myself on you a bit longer," he says, feeling the mook as they nod and smile at him.

Automatically, he offers his arm to Lily( _The Fay family must adore flowers, to have both a Daisy and a Lily in the family_ ), who takes it without hesitation and with the air of indifference as she also links her arm through her cousin's. He can not help but notice her warmth, the way her arm settles comfortably into the crook of his arm. He tries to ignore how he feels his hands slick with nervous sweat.

"There's no need for this Gatsby," mentions Nick as they go through his home.

Gatsby waves it off, hitching up a smile.

"Oh, no, I insist. What are neighbors for?"

The girl chuckles, a somewhat throaty sound that crawls down his chest and into the pit of his stomach.

"Oh, is that what you call it? Neighbors? We practically live in your grand shadow, Mister Gatsby," she says and he feels himself puff up in slight pride and her teasing voice.

"Call me Jay," he insists, smiling at her, beaming like a fool because her face is glowing softly, "And not so grand. You have a lovely home. Just needs a bit of a maintenance. I'll gladly send anyone over as soon as I have a mind to. No, bother at all."

Nick pales.

"No, no, Gatsby that's unnecessary-"

"I insist. I'll have them over sometime later today. At least the garden. Maybe the interior."

When they make it to the small cottage, he claps Nick's shoulder and carefully lifts that pale, delicate hand to his lips. Her hand is soft and her skin smells sweet as he presses a kiss on the back of her hand. Green eyes, brilliant and deep, lock with his. All he can do is focus on them, past the familiar features of the girl, past the softness that is her pale skin.

 _Emerald, bright with light._

"Thank you for breakfast, Mister Gatsby."

He blinks, shakes his head, dips his head, gives her fair, pale hand another quick kiss on impulse. _He should be beyond impulse now._

"Call me Jay, Miss Lily."

With that, a quick clap on the back to Nick, Gatsby makes a hasty retreat back to his house- _it will not be his home until Daisy is living with him._


	8. Things As They Always Were

**Things As They Always Are**

"The man unsettles you," said Nick, quietly.

His young cousin, thirteen years older then she should be blinked, looked up from the small leather bound journal she had requested. It was one of the few things she had asked for, once she had calm down enough to speak of what she needed. It was one of the few things he himself had purchased, as Daisy had overzealously acquired everything else. She pushed a strand of her long hair behind her ear, highlighting how luminous and soft it looked with delicate fingers, how she had let it fall out of its perfectly pinned style that was popular as of late the second she had all but slammed the door behind her. She sighed and nodded her agreement.

"Yes," and Pamela Lily said it said, softly, voice sweet and remarkably like that of her mother's. He wondered, at how little Tom had given his daughter, as a child she was now, it was not as noticeable, but with the woman across from him he couldn't deny it that beyond her dark hair, possibly the blunter arch of her brows, and her vividly green eyes that he could see nearly nothing of Tom in her. She was Fay, could pass for Daisy's twin, if not her younger sister quite easily.

She was completely different in temperament, beyond both her mother and father, however. She held herself similarly to Daisy, had that sort of draw that brought you closer, but she did not feed into it, did not smile often and with that vivacious sweetness so prominent in his cousin. Her small imperfections- the slight slump of her shoulders when she sat, the eagerness to ditch the gloss and adornments that Daisy wore in a dazzling display was a stark contrast to many of the family...

She was a kind girl, he could admit.

"The dreams included him…. Don't tell me," he said sternly, as she opened her mouth to further explain, as he had explicitly told her that the future was meant to kept by the tongue of those who had Fallen, not anyone else. Not even those within the family should have an idea what the Fallen was there to change, or to cause to happen, "And I'm sorry for it. He seems to be a nice man, zealous, but you don't seem to like him."

Pamela Lily pursed her lips, closing her journal altogether. She did it with a quick motion of snapping at the spin, setting aside her fountain pen. She leans into her hand, leaning towards him with an attractive pout. She is all attractive, he is uncomfortable to admit, but beyond that he finds himself cursing the fact that the Fay blood is so strong. Thirteen years is by no means the most anyone has ever Fallen, forward or backward, but it is a rare thing to exceed past a decade in general. He himself had Fallen only five years. He could not imagine how it would seem to someone who had grown believing in the mundane.

"It's not that I dislike him," she said, absently playing with the pen between her fingertips, drawing in his eye over how slim and small they were, "The contents of the dream are disturbing."

He smiled, with some sympathy, but not understanding. His dreams had not been so grand- he had Fallen at thirteen, forward, not back and had met his eighteen-year-old self. It had been enough for him to finish his tenure at Yale, and to want to be a writer( _tales of mystery and morality, grand tales that would make one question their roaring, thriving society_ ). Part of him wished he had Fallen later in life, as Lily had, for he had not the best outlook at thirteen. Now, he wanted to make a name for himself and be rich by his own two feet, not on the merit of his father or the Fay. He wondered what he would have thought of himself now, with his complete abandonment of his original purpose in his life before he had fallen out of favor from his father.

"I apologize. It must be frustrating."

She snorts, chewing her lip and completely uncaring of the bright red color there. With a quick, dismissive hand and kerchief, she wiped away what remained of her lipstick, leaving her pale peachy lips exposed. Part of him thought that it was a better color than the rogue.

"Frustration is one way to put it. It doesn't help that he is so intent on flaunting himself. I've never seen such a gaudy display," she said, with no heat or maliciousness, but only with observation and slight distaste.

"It is part of the code of those here, in the West Egg, I suppose," he said, boredly. He himself was impressed with Gatsby's display- but then again he had never been as well off as Lily, she was a product of the main branch Fay and the heiress to the last Buchanan.

Her blood ran rather pointedly cobalt blue, while his blood was more watered down lavender in comparison. She sighs, rubs at her temples.

"What I do not understand is why he is so fascinated with us."

Nick was amused.

"Mysterious, beautiful woman falls into his pool, onto his beach, and you wonder?"

She pursed her lip, dark green eyes narrowed.

"Because it's not just me he is trying to endear himself too. He directed most of the conversation on you, dear cousin."

Nick nodded, rubbing absently at his jaw.

"Yes, but I dare say his gaze was solely on you."

She snorts, a small rough noise that he had never heard from Daisy.

"Men looking at a pretty woman. That is nothing," she says dismissively in a matter-fact way. She is not vain- just acknowledging the reality.

Nick hums in agreement.

"What could he possibly want of us than, my dear?" he asks, but this is speculative. He has no reason to believe that Gatsby wants anything from them.

Least of all _him_. He isn't of the main Fay branch, single and completely away from the reach of his family. No connections or standing until he makes it for himself. He wonders at his looking at Lily instead. He can see _that_ being the reason of the zealousness of his neighbor. She is beautiful and had appeared strangely, every man loved a bit of mystery.

"I don't know. But I don't want to find out," she says, softly, eyes distance, "The way he-"

She stops, biting her lip. She stands, legs slightly shaky as she storms off. Nick looks after her, frowning but understanding.

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Lily wants to cry. Because Thomas looks at her with narrowed eyes and frown, and because he doesn't know who she is. Just a touch of surprise because of her resemblance to her mother- but nothing but of the affection that she has come to see in his expression. He takes her coat anyway, carefully, lips pursed as he looks not at her but her feet in quiet submission. It makes her stomach roll, watching one of her dearest friends(the man that had half raised her) act like that to her. She breathes deeply through her nose and tries instead to focus on how _young_ he looks, at the lack of gray in his tight curls and the straightness of his broad shoulders. That he does not know her, and she cannot act overly familiar, lest he think her crazy.

"Thank you for taking my coat, sir," she says politely, and he looks at her hesitant as if expecting her to be mocking. She just gives him a small smile, before she looks away.

Her father comes bounding down the staircase, as lithe and as broad as a lion, grinning ear to ear.

"Nick!" he all but roars, rushing over to embrace her older cousin, slapping him heartedly in the back. He is beaming, his dark mustache quivering in his delighted laughter.

"Tom," and Nick is smiling, and he shaking his hand easily, a familiarity that Lily didn't expect. She had hardly seen this man in her life, but both of her parents' reactions, he was close to them.

She wonders faintly, what causes a rift between the two.

Lily felt her brow furrow but smoothed it out as her father turned to her. He blinked in sheer surprise, brown eyes widening as he took her in. She steeled herself before she curled her lips in a pleasant, stiff smile. She wasn't going to burst into tears at the sight of her younger father. She was stronger than that.

"So you're the man Cousin Daisy married," she said happily, extending a hand for a shake.

Tom blinked, before scrambling over and lifted her extend hand and bringing it to his lips.

"And who might you be?" he rumbled, eyes intent.

 _Oh dear lord no._

"Lillian Fay," she said carefully, as she took back her hand, "But most call me Lily."

He looked her up and down, from her dark jade shoes to the tip of her carefully pinned hair.

"You're a damn mirror image of Daisy-"

"Oh yes, as children we used to wear wigs to switch. Most couldn't tell us apart, even with our different eye color, isn't that true my darling?" cooed her mother, rushing forward in a swirl of white skirts and familiar perfume. She brought her close, gripped her shoulders in a sort of protective way, blocking her father's sight.

Lily, despite whatever she felt for her mother, gratefully clung back. Because she didn't want to think about her father lusting after her. She had suspected this would be the case, but most of her had hoped that part of her father would at least recognize her to the extent of not allowing his habit of following any pretty woman with his eyes. She shudders.

It was going to be a long dinner.

And it was half the dinner was spent with her father and mother talking over each other and directly at one person, mostly poor flustered Nick, who was not as well versed with it as she was. The other half of the dinner was her mother trying desperately to take her father's attention off of her. It did not work very well, and her father was the most determined flirt that she swore if he touched her in any way that she disliked that she would punch him in his face as Thomas had taught her to do.

"See you tomorrow, Nick!" boomed her father, as he and her mother walked them out. His eyes turned to her, brown eyes narrowing as a smirk of a smile came to his lips, "Nice to meet you Miss Lily Fay."

Lily just gives him a half smile, grateful for the way Nick is gripping her arm in a firm, reassuring way.

It seemed that even in the past, her parents never changed.

She was neither reassured nor grateful for this fact- it just made her feel sad.


End file.
